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At it again
the trees are greening
defiant of the chill wind
and dusting of snow

In their stripped state
brown and still
they can pass for dead
or dying

They bend under
weighted down
or pushed hard
by pitiless nature

I’ve seen her like that
so gray and wooden
I’m certain she’ll snap
and plummet irrevocably

I hold my breath
and my grief
remember the forest
and dream of one more spring

 

Julie Ayers
NaPoWriMo Day 12

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