The Ash In Winter Poem by Francis Duggan

The ash tree stand forlorn and bare
In the cold winter night air
Without the glossy green array
That was his on summer day.

In the breeze his branches sigh
As he talk to the starry sky
Telling tales of woe and joy
And of summer days gone by.

He recalls the days in spring
When the song thrush came to sing
Up to his tallest branch he'd fly
And pipe his merry tunes on high.

And it done the ash tree proud
When his green foliage gave shroud
To the singing thrushes young
Between his branches their nest clung.

And then there was his sister tree
Tall and beautiful as he
But two humans came and cut her down
And sold her wood to folk in town.

the dreary winter days pass slow
His only friend the odd stray crow
Who stop to rest while on it's way
To join it's kin at close of day.

Each night the ash tree turns his face
Towards the sky and outer space
And tell of his great sense of gloom
To the stars and crescent moon.

The moon console the ash and say
Winter days won't always stay
Spring will come soft winds will blow
And on your branches new leaves will grow

And the thrush will come to sing
From your highest branch in spring
And that same thrush will build her nest
In your green and glossy vest.