As a child I lived near a farm a farm that was
next door to a prison camp. Russian prisoners
marched up and down trying to keep warm
it was January with much frost, year of 1945
I thought of this today on my walk passed my
almond tree that is situated so good it catches
most of the westerly sun, yet hidden behind
a Holm oak protected by Nordic wind blasts.
My tree is already flowering, it has pink petals
shivers a bit dressed in a delicate nightdress.
The Russians had to wait longer for their spring
when it came, it was false one, they were sent
home and put in prison camps for surrendering
to the enemy. For some the winter is endless.
