Winter Branches by Margaret WiddemerWhen winter-time grows weary, I lift my eyes on highAnd see the black trees standing, stripped clear against the sky;They stand there very silent, with the cold flushed sky behind,The little twigs flare beautiful and restful and kind;Clear-cut and certain they rise, with summer past,For all that trees can ever learn they know now, at last;Slim and black and wonderful, with all unrest gone by,The stripped tree-boughs comfort me, drawn clear against the sky.-----Prosodia is a daily podcast dedicated to historical notes and poems, hosted by Karim El Azhari. Welcome!All show notes are heavily recycled from old The Writer's Almanac archives. May that podcast rest in peace (it was Karim's favorite).All poems are public domain or submitted by the author for use on the show.Intro and outro music by Chillhop Records. They are amazing!