Weeping Cherry in Winter

A poem that invites reflection on the cycles of life.

She stands beneath willowy limbs waving like tired arms,  
bending low under crisp cold air.  

Snow drifts down softly, settling without sound,  
a quiet coat wrapping every empty space.

Wind moves through,  
a slow rhythm, gentle but unrelenting.  

She watches how the tendrils sway,  
as if the tree carries a memory just out of reach.

In her mind, she sees soft petals bursting open,  
a flood of pale pink spilling over dark wood,  
a season breathing life back into this stillness.  

Do trees dream of warmth—  
of sunlight soaking into bark,  
of blossoms brushing against sky,  
of days when quiet cold fades into something tender?

She stays a moment longer,  
sharing that silent hope,  
feeling how even in winter,  
life waits…
beneath everything.

Author’s Note

This poem came from a simple moment watching a weeping cherry tree in winter. There was something moving about seeing its bare branches sway gently in the cold wind, while soft snow fell around it. I wanted to capture that stillness and quiet beauty.

At the same time, I was drawn to the idea that beneath this winter scene, the tree holds a kind of hope or memory of spring. Even in its bare state, it carries the promise of blossoms and warmth. That feeling of waiting for something good to come felt important to me.

I hope you find your own quiet connections in this scene—moments when patience and hope live quietly, even in cold or empty times.

Upcoming…

• A solstice story:

  The Longest Night, 13 December 2025

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