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Thursday, November 29, 2012

On This Very Day




 On this very day,
Just thirty-eight years ago--
Beloved Hira!

 

 Snow patches on lawn;
Sparkling white on some tree limbs;
Winter is creeping.

 
 
 Forsythia's bare,
Yet buds wait on brown branches
For the kiss of Spring.

 

Sun seeks out the green,
Sliding over dead brown limbs
Til it finds the life.

 

On the road again;
The woods are screaming today
In high pitched silence.


Pregnant mother log
Covered with a white blanket
For her winter rest.


Flying gray hub cap
Now lies still among dead leaves;
(Hub caps need rest too).


The logs are frosted
While the forest remains clear.
Do they love the snow?











































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