deepundergroundpoetry.com

WINTER'S FIELD

brown on muted gold on grey,  
this vista, plain,  
pallid in winter chill,  
waiting for visions of eye and mind  
to find beauty in its homely  
countenance  
 
a lone tree in damp,  
grey slumber  
 
low clouds, a thin blanket  
in the cold December mist  
 
this moss, a tiny spot  
of weary green
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