Christmas Poem by chris schwartz

The tiny pine,
Planted with hands of love
Grows only inches,
Before the first frost
Of winter.
It's fragile branches,
Hold beautifully
The first white, christening flakes
Until the melting of Spring.
It grows, subdued,
Without notice,
But, oh so fast
At first discovery
Of strong heartyroots!
Pine cones cast shadows
In the yard,
Shedding the stress from winters past.
Old eyes watch,
As the offspring come
To gather them,
Nimble fingers grasping
For a new found nugget of gold.
The trunk of the pine grows thicker
It's branches know that winter
Is coming,
And the heavy snow on its branches
May be too much to bear.
The anticipated storm arrives,
Snapping the once young branches
Of the pine,
Leaving a picture for those
To remember.
Sketched in the minds
Of those
Who love Christmas.