The first flowers are already blooming, the meadows are freed from the snow and soon, also the trees are going to bloom and sprout leaves. Thus, this post is a last homage to how trees look in winter: the bare branches that do not seem to have any more life in them, but we all know they will revive again in the spring months.
I found a poem that I thought very beautiful and expresses exactly this certainty:
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.
Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too,
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.
Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.