Time was slow snow sieving the night,
a kind of love from the blurred moon;
your small town swooning, unabashed,
was Winter's own.
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It is beautiful poem on Christmas Eve. It has been nicely executed. Thanks and congratulations for being chosen this poem as the member poem of the POD.
I wonder in what sense snow can be deemed thoughtful. I think this is rather more than whimsical.
This poem is rather whimsical compared to some of the darker works in her canon.
Loved you poem dear! Blessings!