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Patricia's Poetry Place > Stanley Starling


I sit on a fir branch and

      Watch the snow dance

Listening to the Wind sing her song;

I can hear the constant chatter

    as the other birds all natter

    and I huddle

Knowing now it won't be long.

 

Then,

As salmon skies fade to winter grey;

     and eventide calls them all away,

I flex my ebon' wings

     and glide - as tho' on strings! -

Suspended from a leaden, snowfilled sky.

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