Red rowan

Winter has bouquets of snowflakes
Like foliage, frosty patterns.
And only bright red rowan
He argues hotly with infinitely white.

For her, snowstorms are not a hindrance.
And the wind will not hide her fire.
On a huge sheet of snow
Little drops of scarlet blood.

Old raven, wise with life
Will not understand a natural riddle -
Why do not the brushes fade into the cold
Are these berries bittersweet?

Apparently summer was not enough for them,
Yes, and autumn quickly dimmed,
And burn with fierce strength
In December, rowan sparks.