Waiting.

Bone damp grey

wraps a blanket

round the hour

 

chill flakes fall

holding no value,

rattling across folded

leaves to no purpose,

 

only a few

capped in half laced

white.

 

Birds call, take flight

undaunted, scar the

boughs with feathers

resting.

 

 

A Robin sings and

I know...

 

Spring is but a heartbeat

away.

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I know I am being too impatient :-) 

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