They fall gently on the January branch.
Taking their places, they recline
Among their siblings,
As they start their frozen slumber
In the day's last light.

They remain, still and sleeping,
Until the spring's first bird
Coos to rouse them
From their chilly nap.

Upon awakening to the sun's gentle kiss,
They drip softly to the earth
And water the thirsty, waiting ground.