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When last the Autumn blanket crept to seal the bed where summer slept, its oak leaf fingers intertwined and locked 'til springtime sets them free. So from the winter's tempests flee from waning days and clinging time and loose its grip in solstice stare - last glimmers of the sunset's glare. The geese fly swiftly - cry in rhyme as cold invades the season's tide within the ebb where instinct rides on wings of life to warmer climes.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

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Date: 1/23/2022 12:26:00 PM
Beautiful poem, Craig.
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Date: 1/19/2022 12:14:00 PM
gorgeous poem Craig...flows like satin on polished silver :)
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Date: 1/16/2022 8:02:00 PM
You set the winter scene so distinctly with creative imagery in this fine poem, Craig! Enjoyed this gem! :)
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Date: 1/16/2022 11:22:00 AM
Cleverly written and with great rhythm. Well done and best wishes..Ron
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