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In the clear cold of a December morning,
as a last leaf gently floats down
from a branch reaching high toward blue sky,
while below water battles ice for rule over silver ribbons
that mark now too obvious wooded ravines,
and a piercing sharp sun
leaves behind deep shadows
exposing naked trees and fading leaf covered hillsides,
the land quietly waits for a warm blanket of snow.
xxx
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Thanks for stopping by.
Lovely.
Thanks Bruce!
Beautiful words with photos to compliment!
Beautiful images makes your words come alive