Ashen sky darker still
clouds gather behind the mill.
Trees begin to shiver,
frost crusts on the river
Gossamer.
Sheathed in Snow.
Quiver,
as the winter winds blow.
Branches bending under frost,
bowing to this icy wind.
Leaves circulate as if tossed,
waiting until spring to mend.
Barren trees sit and wait,
until the winter ends of late.
When emerald will clothe every bower,
and the trees again do flower.
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