Winter Poem by David Michael Jackson

winter and the trees have no leaves

Beauty is the stolen moment
of a single green field among
the grey of the trees.
Beauty is the sudden reddish brown
of the grasses
and the clear view
of the fields through the dark trees,
the daring of the hawk as he
somehow avoids
the barren branches and
soars through the woods.
Beauty is the single glimpse
of a deer family
in the
winter

***

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