The Pine by Jane Richards

Sun lures me onto the snowy path,

deserted on this frigid day;
not even a sparrow scuttles in the bushes.
Dried grasses bend low,
laden with icy burdens;
resolute oaks, stark against the bright sky,
shoulder snow on their branches.

A single pine defies winter’s shroud.
Rich in its deepest hue,
it breathes into bleak woods,
opens itself to the weather,
welcomes the snow,
gathers it in clumps like heavy fruit.

A reminder as I plod
through this frozen world,
so silent since your passing,
that I, too,
breathe, and gather



Jane Richards is a piano teacher with an intense interest in writing and nature. She has a masters degree in creative writing from Columbia College, Chicago, and has published poetry and non-fiction works in Snowy Egret, Rosebud, The Plum Tree Tavern, The Weekly Avocet, and Bird Watchers Digest.