Winter Sonnet
The trees stretch silver branches
In the late December sun ,
The robin perched there watches
As we offer him our crumbs.
The elegance of shapes laid bare
Forgives the winter cold.
And side cast sun rays clearly
Touch the embers of my soul.
Too soon the quarter moon will rise
To send the sun away.
So let us all wipe clean our eyes
To see what Winter says.
For all the while the world rotates,
Regardless of our fate.
Copyright © Katherine Braithwaite | Year Posted 2013
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