The Snowbound Wren
White frigid puffs
the snowbound wren,
Suffused within
her winter glen,
Mere bits of bud on
twig she'll stand,
Purview her
glist'ning wonderland.
Safe harbors of
the distant spring,
No bounteous
breakfast offering,
One moment's rest
in winter'd tree,
Then into
morning's forage flee.
And, here by
hearth the fire warm,
I gaze all safe
from winter storm,
Such beauty since
I don't know when,
Perchance to spy
the snowbound wren!
Peter Lowell
Paulson
January 21, 2016
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