Oh sweet winter tree, cloaked in fog, what did you say? What did you whisper that stopped my scurrying as the ice laden fog gripped my own trunk and branches? I stopped to listen and see. My eyes tracing your trunk and branches. I followed the bends, turns, twists, rising and stretching. Your fibrous fingers such a net invisible in spring and summer. Oh my friend, what did you whisper? I smiled and bowed knowing you spoke. What you said, woven like your branches into my heart. Cloaked and cloaked, we stood in the clouds and drank the warmth of winter’s whispers.