Winter's Grip

In winter, when the temps go down
The trees are all undressed.
It seems a bit ironic,
Although Nature knows what’s best.

For if the branches kept their coats
Of leaves to keep them warm,
Perhaps they’d weigh things down
When battered by a winter storm.

We bundle up when it is cold
And we’re in winter’s grip,
But all the trees (except the firs)
Think it’s the time to strip.