In your back yard

Everything blew in the biting winter wind

But the branches of the berry trees

The tall pines were in constant sway

The left over leaves tumbled to find a home

But the snow capped red berries stood

Like rocks against Mother, they stood

The glass broke and fell to the ground

Smithereens

And the myriad shimmery shards

Sat unexampled against Mother

I touched each shining fragment

With each fingertip