As the days become shorter

And the sun beams grow flaccid

The quieting forest

Make the days feel so placid


The bare boned trees

Stately and gaunt

And the glow of the moon

Through the clouds as they haunt


The bitterest winds

Seem to lacerate

But the snow that may fall

Like a freshly washed plate


Drab disappears

‘Neath a glistening white

Amplifying the peace

Of a cold winter’s night

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