Oh the trees, the trees, seeking spring despite the snow in flight,
Struggling to be seen against a sea of white.
Trunks and branches concealed in a coat of snow.
Lines reaching for the sky from the earth below.
Longing for speckled sunlight upon the forest floor,
Awaiting the gentle rains’ return and rich petrichor.
Waiting for the emergence of buds and blooms it brings,
When will it come and bless this woods, oh the spring, the spring?
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