A little rain,
a little green,
a little cold
short of a December freeze
my girls dress
in fiery colors
along the creek trickling
before winter’s strip-tease:
long limbs reaching
from the clothes at their feet.
Some trees have drunk
more than they can hold,
dropping limbs on fences—
but nimble and sylphlike,
they have shown a millennium
a glimpse of sensual grace.
drycrikjournal 
Thank you for safeguarding these precious beauties! They were my Dad’s favorite tree. The night after he died, with no wind or rain, the big sycamore that straddled our driveway let go of an enormous limb and it fell in a way that we could still drive around it…such a gentleman he always was…
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