Weighted bows touch down
Packed silent beneath the continuous snow
Bending to all the wills
Ever quiet, farther down we go.
Muted words and lips
Move and speak without a sound,
Blurred through the tormented storms
Of snow ever pressing down.
Quiet willow in the woods
Ash and oak long slumbered
Left awake as the cold encroaches
Tired eyes so desperate for rest
Rivulet tears lost amid the snowfall.
For where do the tears of trees cascade,
Amid their dying lives of leaves.
Silent sobs amid the rain
Following the streams across their bark,
Grooves worn through over time.
From the tears dismissed
Sapped hearts of those reverent monoliths.

Penned by my hand on the 11th of Khepary, in the year 149 MA.