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Skeletree
by Cindy M Hutchings
Barren, black skeletons
stand against gray sky
stooped, twisted with gnarly curves
they pluck low hanging clouds
flail stark appendages
at creeping winter mist
rising from the river
beneath their petrified bones
all the while
longing, yearning, craving
the warm, wet touch
of Spring
that returns them
to
the land
of the living.
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