Wild weeds shiver in a frozen wood,
Black birds soar near the place where I stood,
Millions of snowflakes free fall here and there-
In aimless direction they float on the air.
Barren trees keep vigil on a rolling hill,
Brisk breeze is blowing yet the earth is still,
Blacks, browns and greys are all covered in white,
And all wrapped with beauty on a wintry night.
Peter Lowell Paulson
January 14, 2012
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