They are graceful, stripped down soldiers,
Their arms bare, but strong.
Wind whipping at them,
They maintain their stance unphased.
Their slender branches and proud stance goes unnoticed,
People hurry by, taking their beauty for granted.
A few brown leaves still hold on to the branch,
Keeping from making the journey to the ground.
Looking lonely day in and day out,
Not feeling their beauty is appreciated.
Yet spring renews their beauty.
They become greener, fuller,
And they gently whisper in the breeze as we pass.
Always standing vigilant,
And becoming entirely brilliant.
The graceful soldiers remain.
Powerful, shielding us,
With their full branches
Of green splendor.
No longer sparse.