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Monday, February 16, 2015

Like a Ghostly Butterfly






Icicles hanging--
They don't care about the sun;
Just the freezing cold.



 




Where are the birds now?
Is it too cold for breakfast?
Freezing starvation?




 





 Saplings in the snow bank,
Up to their ears in the white.
Still, the green shines through.











In the frigid snow
Three ghostly stalks are standing--
Summer memories.











High on the mountain
Kids' voices in the cold air--
Snow boards and screeches.










The bends in the road
After all these many walks
Still a mystery.









A single pine cone
More visible than the woods
Lies in its shadow.









The Christmas mailbox,
Its ornaments are hidden
By relentless snow.









Leaf skitters on snow
Like a ghostly butterfly
Aimlessly searching.


































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