Eric W. Amann
Withered winter tree; its barren boughs reflected in the sick man’s eye —Eric W. Amann
Withered winter tree; its barren boughs reflected in the sick man’s eye —Eric W. Amann
the snow-spinning wind I dream of only big trees in my prison yard —Alan Summers
shimmering pines a taste of the mountain from your cupped hands —Peggy Willis Lyles
frail apple tree the closest thing we have to a scarecrow —Nicholas Klacsanzky