Winter Willow
Icicles dripping with golden ink
The spindly branches of willow
Bow to kiss the frosted grass.
The primrose white, winter sun,
Mindfully unrolls select rays,
To reach through Christmas mists.
Tiny hollow drip-wells engraved,
In the crunchy carpet below
The graceful willow's weighted curves.
Puntured by stark silhouettes,
The watercolour horizon,
Is drowning in tints of dusk.
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