The trees are bare and blank, With their stark silhouettes; The wind whispers secrets, In lonely duets.
Yet in this cold stillness, A warmth lingers on, The promise of blossoms When eventually gone.
- Henry James
The trees are bare and blank, With their stark silhouettes; The wind whispers secrets, In lonely duets.
Yet in this cold stillness, A warmth lingers on, The promise of blossoms When eventually gone.