Poem after a cold February walk

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February.
But what beauty shall I find in you?
With your dry, cold, shallow sunlight
peeking in, mid-low between skeletal bodies
stretched skyward.
The forest an ensemble of standing giants
in a collective coma.
February.
The length of your winter
a continuity that makes me wonder how this place,
elegantly stark
and sepia toned,
was once an overabundance of
Life – 
A wealth of green and colorful birds.
A wood thrush calls from the lustrous and prurient canopy.
The high sun winks a promise it will never keep.
– 2.21.2020

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