Have you seen the holly tree?
Wearing the verdant greens and golds of summer
Berries red as autumn's plenty
Through the bleak grey white of grimmest winter.

All the world is sleeping now,
Waiting for spring's bright hopeful awakening,
Dreaming of summer's easy light,
But you alone, the winter's cold burden bearing.

Thorny leaves seem threatening,
As if you hoard summer's colors jealously.
But how many birds nest in your boughs,
Surviving cold on frost-softened red berries?

O holly tree, how hard your calling?
Do you wish for the sleep of all your siblings?
Even the moonharts dozily waving,
And the fae in Albion's embrace a-slumbering.

But in steadfast duty you stand,
Spring's promise swelling in your berries red,
Green of summer in your leaves,
Golden moonhart-leafed bounty thorn-warded.

Fret not, holly tree, winter passes.
Soon you will tell the snow to melt and buds to open,
Breeze-teased leaves singing of blossoms.
Your duty discharged in spring's promise spoken.