seasons speak
their own language
cold days here
and yet the light
tree branches
in wind and February
next week . . .
reading poetry
and more light
falls on journals
across the room
to read and reread

seasons speak
their own language
cold days here
and yet the light
tree branches
in wind and February
next week . . .
reading poetry
and more light
falls on journals
across the room
to read and reread
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a beautiful mood of peace
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Thank you
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Reblogged this on My Journal Poems.
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