The pines hug
their snow-shawls tightly
each glistening as if
diamond-laden
but it is merely
the sunshine reflecting--
sending glitters
to gild the view.
Silence thunders.
Temperature just shy
of eleven degrees.
Nature's photography
preserves the scene:
frozen for posterity.
Scarlet flash of cardinal--
movement restored.
A gust of wind--
shawls shrugged
to hit the ground
in a showy cressendo
to my morning.
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Prompt/Week # 19
Use all three of these words in your poem this week:
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