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Posted by on Feb 13, 2021 in Poetry | 0 comments


Winter Room

The chains of the swings hang still.
The benches are covered in snow.
High on a naked bough a crow
Lays down the law with beak and claw.
I stare out the window at a circus of ice
Circles of sun and cloud shroud the hill.
Love, let us flood this room with light
As the paperwhite opens its bloom.

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