Secrets in the Pine Trees

Freshly fallen snow

Diamonds crushed to powder

Glitters in the sun

.

On the hill lie graves

Like people softly sleeping

Dreaming of springtime

.

Circling old tombs

Pine trees, crooked and knotted

Gently hold secrets

.

.

.

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This entry was published on December 26, 2012 at 10:00 PM. It’s filed under Poetry and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

write the fox

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