The Tree

A
Barren
Lonely tree
Atop a single hill
Naked to all who see.
Its branches starved for life.
A gentle snow falls on a winter day
Millions of little angels falling from above.
Each flake a possibility, each flake a single hope.
Each flake takes its place on the chosen spot it decides to fall,
Bringing clothing to the tree, to mask its worries, to hide its pain.
Covering it like a shield, protecting it.
Giving it life, sustaining it,
until the
dawn of
Spring
when the
tree may
once again
show its
beauty
to the
world.