Winter Boughs
by Sally Nacker

In stillness I wake slow
to the slow return of sorrow.

I study from my window
white boughs drooping low.

A fluffed out little sparrow
sings in the icy glow.

Its song climbs with crescendo
up through the falling snow,

softens my grief, opens, allows,
wakes me to beauty in the boughs.



 

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