The fall in Vianna left the trees unashamedly naked,
laying bare the leafless beauty of nothing
every single branch has only one purpose,
keeping alive the twigs, the branches of tomorrow.
The first winter rains washed away
yesterday’s dust that settled on the branches,
spring cleaning the twigs
to leave a near black silhouette,
When the full moon changes shift with the sun.
The magic happened early Christmas morning,
tiny snowflakes slow dance from nowhere
waiting for nature to show its seats,
colouring in each naked branch
snowing-in the smallest twig.
The artist covers every black line the tree offers
with a thin white line on the top of each branch and twig,
who’s begging to play host for little snowflakes
to become a Christmas artwork in the neighbourhood.
But the artist is not finished yet.
As the snow keeps falling
more snow is added to the palette.
The white brush is getting heavier
until the black tree of yesterday,
is transform to a white miracle.
Each snow-white branch and twig,
coloured in with a hint of black
peeping out below the snow.
