The year ends softly
with the light of the setting sun
lingering over a blanket of snow.
I see tall evergreens—hemlock and yew,
the gnarled trunk of a weeping mulberry,
brown beech leaves holding fast to a fallen branch,
and rose blossoms and buds, dried on their stems,
vibrant in an old and essential way,
bringing the past year into the new.
inspired by a walk at Atkinson Common
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