Leslie Philibert

Bronze Star - 2,826 Points (6th March 1954 / London, England)

The Not Winter - Poem by Leslie Philibert

The wind smells of
frozen milk and carbolic,
this is the edge of December;

a slopping out of leaves
and burnt wood, the overspew
of ovens that keeps

us holding out coats at the throat.
The winter is still out,
we wait for the last bus of snow.

Topic(s) of this poem: snow

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 8, 2015

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