In Like a Lion, Out Like a Lion
would you say a day ending dreary,
cast in a gray of which we all grow weary,
looms sublime in its overcast fray?
earth meeting sky in flat light,
over echoed night birds reflected in white,
as april clouds wait impatient to wash it away;
but do flakes smother hope like dew
or wetly hide spring’s silent green clue?
while under black ice lurks warm summer days…
Copyright © Andrew Foreman | Year Posted 2014
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