Bowed Strength

The winter sun had set
As I walked through a field
Seeking a newborn calf
Its mother had concealed,

It being too bitter a night
For a calf to spend alone
And as I walked I noted
The sleep of tree and stone,

And thought, my work goes on
With chores astride my back
As day after every day
I circle the same old track.

But frost flakes blinded me
From following cattle signs
And stopped me when I entered
A grove of snow bent pines,

And there I stood and stared
Unmindful of the cold
And half afraid to breathe
Lest I appear too bold

At the tall dark trees,
Humble before the slow
Strength of their needled branches
Bowed by a weight of snow.