Afternoon Poem, February 16, 2021.

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The heavens are miserly this day

Even with the snow

The flakes blow sidewise

In a mad dance

I could count the petty few of them

Even the sluices of heaven are frozen

Like the doors of some abandoned house

There is no music or song

No white blanket

Only rigid edges and brittle branches

.

.

copyright 2021

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