The Tree
The tree
That “Britches” Sees
1-21-2012
During the frigid night
Hoarfrost has embraced her branches
As a tight fitting tunic,
Tailor made, just for her.
Night Wind’s chaffing bite
Has long since given way to crisp morning air,
And snow has lengthened into fog,
Past where aqueous eyes can take in;
Facing east, car’s window rolled down,
A broken barb wire fence, this tree,
And a subtle hint of promise,
Where a rising sun will soon be;
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