Winged Snowflake By David Ross

Via Scoop.itkeeping poetry going…
The gathering dark had blurred the naked trees standing blue-grey on the field’s edge. The air was heavy with falling snow that closely lay on field and hedge and swirled in ever-spiralling cones. Turning the corner on the hill my lights caressed the stricken oak. The yellow fingers caught and held a larger snowflake in the night; the barn-owl on his quartering flight.

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