As winter's shadow
falls coldly upon the withering willow
and wind picks up the ivy
hugging old bark
a small crying of infant frost
settles among the brambles
a new day is born.
As light snow tickles the sky
a tendril of wind sweeps
the dusty flakes under
the carpet of grass whose
cries for help have gone unanswered
as winter's hand slowly
chokes them away.
As I watch autumn
dissappear under a blanket of
cold, crisp crystals
the last of the wildlife lay down
their frozen burdens
beckoning spring to save them
from their inevitable ice tomb.
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