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Cold Arbor

I saw moonlight through the fog
And through bare branches on a tree,
A dozing leafless mystagogue
Fixing carbon...naturally,
And though suspended for a bit
In the cold midwinter hours
It's future growth will never quit
As long as there are vernal powers
That call to trees, and sonneteers,
With prospects of ensuing grace
Under all of the atmospheres
Protecting us from outer space
Which looks lovely with the moon above
But where are all her roots of love?
Written by MidnightSonneteer
Published
Author's Note
From November 13th, 2019
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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