As the swans of winter land on mirrored boughs,
Patting the perfect sheen with wrinkled feet
I will watch from the far shore,
Scarlet leaves churned feather-white.
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i've been reading your poems listening to hard rock.. and your poems are honestly so beautiful i had to turn my music off so i could let your poems fully captivate me.. i love this poem especially, winter is my favorite season and you captured it beautifully
Only a master imagist could paint such a frost picture on the windowpanes of a winter soul. You have the poetic gift, Nomad. Warm wishes, Sandra
'Patting the perfect sheen with wrinkled feet'...you do know your winter well, don't you....such lovely images captured here....
Brilliantly cold and crisp. Loved it.Regards Sally