Trees are most beautiful in winter, when they stand out linearly against a backdrop of sky and light.

A short poem by Ossip Mandelstam, 1909
Against pale blue enamel, the shade That makes every April the same, The birch tree’s branches swayed And evening shyly came. The pattern, precise and complete, Made a network of thinly etched lines Like the ones on a porcelain plate With its carefully drawn design, When the dear artist draws until The firm glaze holds what he wrought, For that moment aware of his skill And sad death forgot.