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Snowfall
January 8, 2015
The trees bare their branches
To catch the falling snow.
Saving flakes of purity
Not to spiral far below.
The lines and spires of winter’s wraiths
are clothed in softest white.
Snowfall’s caressing cradle
holding silent through the night.
The empty boughs are mournful
Longing for winter’s rain.
To smooth rough bark and branch
To mute the bare limbs' pain.
© Kelley C., Marblehead, MA
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