Annie, I've never read that poem. It is absolutely amazing.
Coleman, this is the last poem Wilbur published in The New Yorker.
Sugar Maples, January
January 9, 2012
What years of weather did to branch and bough
No canopy of shadow covers now,
And these great trunks, when the wind’s rough and bleak,
Though little shaken, can be heard to creak.
It is not time, as yet, for rising sap
And hammered spiles. There’s nothing there to tap.
For now, the long blue shadows of these trees
Stretch out upon the snow, and are at ease.