February - Poem by harrison smith
Now a late tyrant of winter's days
Presents an icy greeting of pale green skys
And fogging breath
The black crow filled trees ever far away
Across thinly dusted stubble fields
As yet unploughed.
Suffocated in hot rooms
We skimp in thin clothes outside our doors
Teeth chattering needle cold
We make a fast recoil from alien air
And briefly talk of temperatures and snow.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You