Lowland piñons seldom suffer From limbs weighed down with ice, Free from burden added By winter’s glistening jewels. But trees whose seed from crapping raven, Set their roots on higher ground, Where winter rains paint frozen needles, And ice beads brighten the morning sun. I hear a crack in cold of night, And feel a little twang Of long low limb on bushy tree Broken at the base. Substantial diamonds, hard and lasting, Adorn the morning limb, Bejeweled in crystalline stillness Sparkling diamonds, colors bright. Now the colors change again From blue to red to green to gold A spraying fountain, intoxicating dazzle, Spectacle to remember. By afternoon, where once she sparkled, A low limb tastes the dirt From which she came and soon returns. The ice warmed up and left. From many summers, the break has healed. The limb with diminished strength, Pressed low by one night’s weight, Still adds a little growth. A wild and anxious limb For years stood the common tests, But broke without the strength To stand a common Love.