Winter Willows | A Poem

Snow falls Feather soft. For the robin, no perch here.

Across the field mournful cattle low. Too cold, the dark end of the year.

Soft hues of Eire earth-brown, grass-green, sky-blue, overcome by stark monochrome.

Diamonds sparkle but the sun’s rays fail to pull the beast from my home.

Silent falls the snow, No choice but to endure. Yet the trees hold up strong branches for more.

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