How cold and drear that winter's evening when the trees stood bare.
Their leaves so recently had left them""gone they knew not where.
Some might think the trees were filled with feelings of dejection,
Could it not be such mournful thoughts are products of projection?
Yea, sometimes we must take on faith that which we can't perceive,
and know that there is surging life deep in those barren trees.
Their trunks and branches now prepare a cornucopia of fare,
of nuts and berries, fruits to spare; of buds and blooms,
and fine perfumes for wafting on the coming summer air.
I wonder if it might not be that when we contemplate a tree
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