The Winter Forest
The former postal path creeps into forest, deep in snow,
the cobbles amply filled with shining white;
we trudge in file,
together - yet alone the while
and tree steps after tree, softly into view.
The ageing oak, in blankets of fresh snow
is now in sight, both gnarled and crooked.
The little birch has wrapped
the rime, fine trapped,
about its young trunk, glitt'ring like a star.
The tall fir - trees are now come together,
and 'neath the weight of snow almost clink from cold.
Growing, aye, into the banks of cloud
Their tree-tops stand, vastly proud.
The old boughs crack beneath the weight.
The winter forest leads us on in heart and mind
to the everlasting contrast:
breathtaking the young brow,
'spite the changes time has wrought,
yet I - see you not - nearly break beneath them,
(Nachdichtung: Derek Donaldson)