Trees reach up
in a pale, winter sky,
leaves gone,
only branches and bark remain.
The branches divide,
divide again,
ever smaller dark fingers
grab at cold sunlight.

Trees dive down,
below frozen ground.
Blind roots
push out,
search cold water,
weave a woody anchor.

The dark branches reach up
as the blind net spreads down.
Each half required,
and each equal to the task,
of reaching out,
and pulling in life.