Early Works - The Edge Of Winter - Poem by David Harris
The edge of winter
colours blanket the ground
bare trees with skeleton arms
out stretch to catch the wind
sky grey and clouded
wind with biting chill
scarves tightly tied
around necks of passing strangers
roofs white from first frost
cars aside the road will not start
batteries flat not antifreeze
fires chimneys plumes
rosy cheeks, icy breath.
The edge of winter here.
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