Winter’s tales

Photo ©Lewis Collard

1024px-sparrow_on_snowy_branch

In the north,

ice floes sail,

compact glitter,

trailing their cold embrace

through the glass green ocean.

 

Glistens the sun

on frost in winter meadows,

and the waning light

in rolling tears

when no one is there.

 

Cold wind carries the restless leaves

gathered in the earth’s lap,

where blackbirds sort the living and the dead.

 

All dead, the flowers,

glowers the cloud,

shrouds their remains,

chains of frost bedeck their bed,

dead winter’s feast,

least of all the sparrows shiver.

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Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

5 thoughts on “Winter’s tales”

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