by Dawn Garrett

A crystalline sky,
definer of blue,
February’s glimpse
of deep breathed hue.

the wispy-white clouds
saunter August-like
portending no gloom.

Down the forest path –
a curious mix
of mud here, ice there –
the step slurps, snaps, cricks.

A recent hard storm
littered limbs and leaves,
strewing evidence
of calamities.

Barren trees reveal
nests on limbs tied tight,
clinging firm to fledge
birdies unto flight.

Withstanding the storm
Relishing the peace
Recalling the trial
Resting in reprieve

New storms will bluster
Providence provides.

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