Winter Tree

I feel most like a winter tree devoid of frills, hunkered down, reaching for the deep warm soil. I am conserving my resources; rough and icy on the outside but warm and sugary on the inside. I'm not dead or dying or old or tame. I have shed my bounty for those that hunger and can finally rest from the burden of holding up nests and making food. After the snow and ice and darkness and mud, I'll be restless and ready again for the riotous seduction of spring.