Poetry

Winter’s Child

How I love the cold air
as it caresses the bare
limbs of November’s
dormant arms
amid the caws
of distant
crows carried
carefully through
the bright crisp
rays of the brave
winter sun
unfazed
by the
shortening
of its days
The spirits
are nearer
The veil
is thin
My path ahead
is clear again

Categories: Poetry

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