poem written based upon this image-for online poetry class
On a blue winter evening, the land rises like an ornate palace, pillars of ice lifting themselves into a silvery chamber of sky. The air glistens with cold radiance, a sacred cathedral built of frost and breath. At the center stands a tree ~ balanced limbs, delicate icicles, a spiritual sentinel carved by winter’s hand~ leaning toward the passing sojourner to ask: “What truth are you ready to see?”
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