A Christmas Remembered
By PoetonaHill
Mon, 18 Dec 2017
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2 comments
A Christmas Remembered
A winter’s morn; the earth is
still. Leaves and grass gleam virgin
white as vapours shroud the distant
hill. Birds forage in field and
wood where the pond is steel. The
sharpened air, a whetted knife,
reveals to me my lover’s
breath. God – I see her very
life! We spread our pence beneath
the tree, but love is all the
gift we need, and love is free.
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Comments
Pence too often being spread
Pence too often being spread about instead of, in pretence of, love, nowadays.
Your description is very vivid and tight, and brings such a frosty morning to mind's eye, very satisfyingly. Rhiannon
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