Albert Timper

Sliver Maples Icicles - Poem by Albert Timper

Silver maple icicles are forming a new,
The month of March has come too,
Fashioned on branches hanging low,
Over Long Island Channel they will grow,
Moisture collecting, flowing, and casting,
In a day time melting and an evening freezing,
A cycle of sun, evaporation, and chill,
Seeing them originate is a marvel and a thrill.

Topic(s) of this poem: trees

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Poem Submitted: Monday, August 25, 2014

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