Winter here is quietly pale
And suffering slightly
After the sun's excesses.
Autumn's cool sense
Has cowed and driven the sizzling heat
To shimmer on some new horizon.
Everything is calm now
And fleecy clouds sleep in their sunny loft,
Deep as a breath.
Trees weep leaves into the breeze;
It soothes the summer-scalded earth
And sings across the wilderness
A song to herald winter's birth.
by Phil Brown
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Copyright © Phil Brown