Composition
It’s December. And bold
Blackberry is young. All freeze nothing a poet can do.
What a winter's palette
Spread out of mercy
Ah, holidays! How sharply
Hearts can bite
With color gray and wave
And evening pregnant with stars
Here and there a dared bloom
In wild-geese high from above, the seasons
Come. Tomorrow
The pleasanter will gentle beam.
And an old year will be gone.
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