Fledgling Poem

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The stars have frozen in their sockets

In the steely sky.

My hands are in their pockets

As I go ambling by

 

The frostbitten fountain, its shivering waters

Reflecting my wind-nibbled face.

Mama redbird and her bundled-up daughters

Quickly vacated the place.

 

Swaddled in scarves and my orange coat and hat,

I’m frozen—the winterly norm.

But tonight I won’t let myself think on that—

Inside I’m so summerly warm. 

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Ramble back at me...

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