Poetry
Wind’s War
A blustery day of early Fall, a war ‘between wind and trees The broganned breeze trumps boldly into strip the mottled leaves Its icy fingers
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A blustery day of early Fall, a war ‘between wind and trees The broganned breeze trumps boldly into strip the mottled leaves Its icy fingers
I have examined the night sky. Seen appear the moon, stars, and meteors. During winter’s freeze, Orion, lost in Crete, stands tall, his belt tight,
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