Monstrous Muse

In the midst of a field buried in snow,
A stick, small and sturdy, started to grow.

No branches or leaves on this tiny tree.
Just roots, and a stem you could barely see.

Winter storms ripped the land with their icy blast,
and the stick, nothing special, held strong and fast.

The dark and the cold gripped the earth in its hand.
Still the stick stood, guarding over the land.