The Cycle

The barren and iced branches of the tree
slowly began to drip,
falling onto the lightly frosted ground
without a sound.
The pale white sky slowly fades to a clear blue,
giving the world a touch of color
little spatters of vivid paint dropped by the stars
who hide behind the low clouds,
waiting for their right time to shine.
The sun sometimes cuts a small hole in the sky,
a savior for those early-rising plants
and when the moon flies above the darkness at night
it is a guiding light.
And when the trees finally grow their leaves,
they know that this will happen again.
It is the cycle.