A Snowy Respite

The clouds are dusting,

Their folds filled with snow.

The air’s fleeced with flakes

Falling silent and slow. 

 

Sheltered in my grove,

A small flock of crows

Rest with puffed feathers,

Their refuge from the cold.

 

A doe is hunkered

Beneath a proud fir.

She rotates her ears

And sneaks a quick slumber.

 

I watch my vista

In quiet repose,

The snow’s sedate flow

Calming my restless soul.

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