January Trees – Four Englyns Poem by C Richard Miles

January trees hold out bare branches,
Pleadingly, to the cold,
Fingers spread to grasp the gold
Of sunshine, sparingly sold.

Mendicants to sun, they seek for succour
From every passing ray
They encounter, small and stray,
That warms winter’s dreary day.

Grateful for each gold gift of welcome warmth,
Disdaining frost’s dread drift
Across their bowed boughs, they lift
Their arms, feeling seasons shift.

Till shy green hints of spring, small sleeping buds
Will burst their bonds to bring
Vibrancy to every thing,
Verdant valleys varnishing.