Winter Poem

Due to a therapy group that I wanted to attend today being full by the time I arrived, I attended a different sort of therapy that uses one's creativity. I wrote a poem that I rather liked on the topic of winter so I thought I would post it -- I do not plan to have posts like this very often:

Trees with voids
Whistling replaced with howling
Between gusty blusts
There is still no silence, no stillness
The forest does not die
It creeps ever so slowly
And the creaks, crunches, rustles
Push the rotting stuff to become
A smorgasbord for the fungi
For the microbes
For the unsung heroes of
Everything