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  Keeper Of The Flame

Windsongs



 




The clouds slowly lifting, the snow slowly drifting
 Against the sides of buildings along the avenue.
 Windsongs playing, you can hear what they're saying
 With highwires adding a strident octave or two....

  

                                
Metallic clicking of thawing, dripping from the eaves;
 Small pieces of ice clawing to maintain their grip.
 On my shoes I feel the cold, icy wetness of leaves;
 Nature's cup runneth over. I am allowed a small sip....
  
  

                                


Falling drops congregate, creating a runnel's advancing,
Purling along in its meandering run to a permanent home
 In some mirrored pool where remaining rime is romancing
 The edges until their goodbyes are said and they're gone....
  
  

                                


An icy edge to the brisk blowing breeze cutting through me;
 An amazing noisy quietness to the crunch 'neath my feet.
 When clouds depart, the blue sky seems much more roomy
 Until the pale sun surrenders in sullen defeat....

2-07-13
                                
 











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