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Winter

The deafening silence
Of icing sugar snow
Of the cascading white-flake's fall
Causes awe-struck creatures
To hark at the noiseless'
Of not e'en a blackbird's call.

Cars of red tincture
'Come stationary snow-hills
And, moving, cast o'er snow a glare
From ice-bright white headlamps
They pinpoint the paw-prints
Of creatures of night that walked there.

Trees, gaunt and leafless,
Wear white satin ball-gowns _
Their jewel-adorned cold attire.
The small birds and creatures
Lay, cold, in the snow, while
We humans stay warm, by the fire.

And, soon, the snowfall will tire.



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Nat S Ford
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