Sleeping Trees of WInter 1000x.jpg

The Sleeping Trees of Winter

Summer’s high, riotous colors,
exuberant street music and wine-drenched laughter,
boisterous blooms and insects humming
leave her laughing with a wanton sense of freedom.
Last night she was twirling her skirt,
dancing in the midst of it.

Yet this night she sits alone on the porch,
closes her eyes, opens her heart
and slips through the gateway into her inner sanctum. 

This is her soulscape,
where the sleeping trees of winter
sway softly to the moonlight lullaby
weaving notes that tip-toe across the sky
with the sound of distant windchimes.

The snow-dusted hillside is breathing,
like a slumbering gentle giant
with a full belly and rumpled golden hair.
He nestles into the voluptuous curves of the earth.
Her breath matches his.

And while she quietly takes her comfort here
she never notices the fluttering Luna moth,
not wanting to intrude.
With shimmering wings of spun starlight
it lands with just a whisper’s touch upon her shoulder.

He is drawn there by her Light.

As she is quelled by the sleeping trees of winter
she cannot see or know
how lovely and effervescent
is the glow that surrounds her,
how the Universe expands as she breathes,
how Love’s smallest effort on her part
falls softly as grace upon all things.

DOROTHY BURY SHAW © 2018

6 3/4" x 9 1/8".

Archival ink, watercolor and colored pencil on cotton rag paper.

To purchase the original art kindly contact the artist.
Also available in limited edition giclee prints.