Trees, once green
and full,
stand stark
and empty.
Brittle branches
break and fall.
(My limbs ache
from freezing fog.)
And yet,
I do not mourn
the loss
of leaf.
Look! There!
Above the bare, old oak,
A flock of geese!
Karen Laslo 12/21
Trees, once green
and full,
stand stark
and empty.
Brittle branches
break and fall.
(My limbs ache
from freezing fog.)
And yet,
I do not mourn
the loss
of leaf.
Look! There!
Above the bare, old oak,
A flock of geese!
Karen Laslo 12/21
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