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Photo, Duck Pond, Winter

 

WINTER

Once more the season has returned
when twigs and branches stand
revealed against the sky;
When white snow fields,
glittering gold beneath the Midas sun,
flow across hills where once the forest floor
was live with summer's touch.
The speaking brooks lie still
or, in rich darkness,
flow between their white- encrusted banks.
The barreness of want is in the land.
All the earth knows a strange emptiness.
The hunger of winter echoed in the soul
that stands in contemplation of nature's death.
And then from out the woodland comes a voice;
-the great raucous voice of winter,
of scarcity and rapacious hunger-
the voice of the crow !

 

© Original poem by Elizabeth Ullman
Washington Senior Center Writers Group.

© Photograph & Original Music by "Lyle"
"Minuet Generator"



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