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Berries

 
There'll be no crab apple for Christmas
the blackbird has seen to that
the only food above the snow,
when all is said and done that's why
I planted them. There are three
bending with the snow, I shall miss
the cheer of berries, yet in spring
shall hear a blackbird sing an
Evensong of a balmy evening,
White flowers, pollinating bees,
then in autumn's fruitful air
toast the days of fading summer,
watch berries swell again,
as discarded leaves and fruit
mould into the earth.
Written by Kexby (john rickell)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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