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Rated: E · Poetry · Nature · #2253176
Winter comes, and with it, the pure white snow!

The heavens look upon the Earth,

With dark, sunken eyes.

The air is calm, yet shows no mirth,

And clouds still line the sky.

The sky, having cried three months long,

Is pacified once more,

But you still can't hear the birds' song,

Which all but none adore!

Winter's season is upon us,

With its cold, frosty bite.

You may not rush, nor make a fuss,

Just sit by fires, bright!

The harshness of the sun relents,

It is now pleasant and pale.

The fields are filled with wayside scents,

And the stiff wind yet not a gale.

The fields feel that they are blest;

For in rich hues they bloom.

It seems as if the Winter Harvest

Makes up for the gloom!

Then from the west, the Wraith appears,

The mighty spirit of frost!

She brings with her a herald of fear,

And joy that can't be lost.

The air, once more, is filled with joy;

With young ones' mirth, the day bright.

The wraith-like luminescence in every eye

Welcomes with joy, the Winter's White!!!

Note: This is one of my first works and the oldest preserved one. I'm getting around to posting it now since I have a place to share it.

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