Winter Garden

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Winter gardens, rows
leaning low to mud, coldly
promising nothing.

The pale sun, lingers…
Are you still here? I saw you
in spring, green breezes

singing in the trees,
lusty crickets shouting grace!
Why did you leave me,

in this place defiled?
Will you turn your holy face
from your unholy child?

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One thought on “Winter Garden

  1. I know the feeling, but I also know that, given the depth of your spirit and your grace, lusty crickets shouting grace are just around the corner of a snow bank that is still just a little too high.

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