Witness

The trees outside my bedroom window are naked but
evergreens remain green to remind me of life’s continuance,
always existing just below the surface.
The trees are stark silhouettes in gray,
each branch and twig evident but asleep.
There is a silence in the wood.
A soft, comforting, sleeping silence,
a hush of reverence, a soothing of soul.
Awareness hangs like smoke among the naked branches.
An awareness of belonging, of no doubts,
of confidence in the being and faith in the belonging.
So they stand, the trees of winter, cold and silent,
in perfect harmony with their place and mine.
Each a witness to the other and
both a witness to the One.  

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