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by Sharmagne Leland-St. John from the photo by the author Covered now in frost these trees, No memory of the summer days When leaves would quake in gentle breeze And how wild birds and crows and jays Nested in your bough Rising up from sagebrush steppe of mossy green perched on limbs jackdaws preen and now and then a Meadowlark Your pale smooth bark scarred with black Your seed pod catkins now dispersed will return again next spring Yes, they shall come back This is a season long rehearsed Nature's such a funny thing
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