I can hear the fir trees cracking and breaking
in the night, their tired limbs laden
with ice and the weight of a new year.
I know that if I look out the window I will see
needles scattered over frozen ground
like lost little children,
like me.
I can hear the fir trees cracking and breaking
in the night, their tired limbs laden
with ice and the weight of a new year.
I know that if I look out the window I will see
needles scattered over frozen ground
like lost little children,
like me.