Dull-bright sky diffuses through layers and lines

of mossy trunk shapes, olive green 

crossed branches and springy end tips 

buds suspended in growth until spring

reaching up and outward fanned

with reddened sap blood not yet withdrawn.

 

But all is not cold and bare

for dotted here and there

shine bright globes, 

rounds of blurred circles,

leaves of pure yellow and lime green,

edged with aching shades of decay

 

To delight the eyes, where light glows through

highlighting the veins and marks.

At dusk the dew-drops glint and hang

in row on row of horizontal growth.

 

Larch trees display fireworks

upward-bound, still-soft

in palest shades of warmth

gentle fire apricot needles

on bracken-brown tips 

against pale lichen-blue sky

the perfect compliment.