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A Winter Wand

Days grow ever shorter as the winter makes its show,
Clouds with a pinkish tinge, brings on the fall of snow.
Soon the trees and branches, are sprinkled with its dust,
As the white flakes are tossed to and fro,
As the wind begins to gust.
What once looked like solid rocks, and mud patches on the ground.
Now take on an enchanted feel, of princess’s party gown.
And as the sun tries bursting through, sillouted by the clouds,
Like glass the village lake now with an icy shroud.

by Nicholas Windle

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