Surviving the Ice

I wrote this piece earlier this year after visiting my sister and her family in northwest Missouri. In December a series of ice storms struck the entire area, leaving the trees just massacred. It was painful to see all these awesome trees just stripped of limbs. So, on this March 2, with the temperature in the mid-seventies, I thought it appropriate to post a poem about an ice storm. This is a ROUGH DRAFT, so please don't expect much. However, if you have suggestions, please let me know! I always welcome constructive criticism! Especially a better title.

They stand beheaded.
Broken limbs dangleat their sides,
while flayed skin, cracked
and rough, lays scattered
at their roots, clinging
deep into frozen earth.
The wind gusts, firing bullets
to encase their torsos
and yet unhacked arms.
Shivering, they rub against each other,
rattling a skeletal rhythm of nature.
Melting snow tracks tears
the arid wind wipes clear.
A slight burn remains
mute evidence of their trials.
Naked and abused,
they stand against the whitened landscape.
Broken and exposed,
an unknown vulnerability emerges,
but they persevere.
Their bark has seen worse storms,
colder winters, thicker ice.
Some may be damaged,
others may be bowed,
but come summer,
they will rise once again
from these icy flames
and join the verdant chorus
of triumph and a wondrous
woodland peace.