Last Fall,
a bare tree that was yearning
for the Spring dream was
dropping leaves from
the late frost,
and the body was frozen
because of the cold sky.

Last night,
because of the Spring snow,
from each branch hung
a flower, and the bare tree
had a smiling face.

In the field,
the scent of the Spring snow
blossomed in the moonlight,
like my sister’s compassion.