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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Written: September 17, 2023 ______________________________________________________________ In the misty, morbid moors of winter mantle, Meadows lay barren in gray shades and prattle. Skies, akin to canvas, drawn with grief and woe, Skylarks seek shelter as spartan spurs stow. Wind whispers weakly, a woebegone wound. Silence slopes set the slues, a solemn sound. Bark of ancient trees bears the scars of time. Sinew firmly in the earth, their roots entwine. In liable land, where souls languish and swell Winter bite runs deep, and the drear dwells. But amid the anguish, there is a hidden flame. A spark of creation, an optimism that tames A durion stands lofty with its thorny crown. A eucalyptus dances and savory shrubs abound. Humble plantain sways; it sheds a vibrant green, While the sumac and cypress tag hues yet unseen. The catechu and bauhinia bestow blooms, Litchi and Bay cram the air with fond perfumes. Limbs of birch trees sway, twigs rending the sky. While the tim and brier pace, with a wild cry. Brazilwood and aeolian trees unveil vibrant hues. As the shill of the wind gyrates, idling a tune, true Tumbleweed rolls, a nomad in the bleak land, With every beat of its seed, it crafts a sound, grand. Intermittent blight may be dimming the scene, But the spirit of nature remains evergreen. In the misty moors, as winter holds its sway, Nature's beauty and resilience find a way
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