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Sunday, February 23, 2014

Not Winter, Not Spring






The air grows brighter;
Snow is suffused with sun's rays;
Fleeting shadows form.




Through the square window
I peer at the outside world--
Each morning different.




My rhododendrons
Have sunk deep beneath the snow;
Now they're popping up.




Where are the shadows?
They're hiding behind the clouds
On this gray morning.




The stream is awake;
Water ripples dark and deep--
A square of blackness.
 
 
 
 


Unread newspapers
Lie, blue wrapped on the driveway;
Ignored or unseen.



Plane's hum and crow's cry
Add life to this dim morning
With their distant sounds.



It's in between time--
Not winter, not spring,
But gray transition.
 
 
 
 
 Shadows have been freed;
Clouds have released the shadows
This late afternoon.


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