Winter Trees - Sylvia Plath

The wet dawn inks are doing their blue
dissolve.

On their blotter of fog the trees

Seem a botanical drawing --

Memories growing, ring on ring,

A series of weddings.

Knowing neither abortions nor bitchery,

Truer than women,

They seed so effortlessly!

Tasting the winds, that are footless,

Waist-deep in history --

Full of wings, otherworldliness.

In this, they are Ledas.

O mother of leaves and sweetness

Who are these pietàs?

The shadows of ringdoves chanting, but chasing nothing.

OPINIÓN PERSONAL: En este poema se habla de recuerdos, de bodas, hasta de abortos y rencores. En mi opinión es un poema cargado de sentimientos producidos por recuerdos buenos y malos.

Andrea Camba Mirás