W
Literature
Winter Berries (Poem)
Winter Berries (by Bukoslav)
In winter’s grasp, when days are slow,
The earth is still, the skies are low,
And through the frost, so soft and bare,
A splash of red, a quiet prayer.
Berries cling to branches bare,
Their color bold against the air,
Like tiny stars in a frozen night,
Surrendered to the cold, yet bright.
Each berry holds a whispered song,
Of summers past and days too long,
Of sun-kissed leaves and winds that dance,
Now buried deep in winter’s trance.
But still they stand, a stubborn truth,
The memory of a vanished youth.
They do not bow to time or frost,
They hold their ground, no matter cost.
For in their crimson depths we find
A spark that lingers, undefined,
A reminder that even in the dark,
Life blooms, though fragile, like a spark.
Winter steals the warmth of day,
But berries bloom in their own way-
A quiet strength beneath the snow,
A truth that only winter knows.
And as the winds howl through the trees,
We learn, from berries, how to be-
To stand, to wait
