Today's poem is by Martha Carlson-Bradley
[Dead of winter for the dead.]
Dead of winter for the dead.
In the barn, unoccupied,
feeble sunlightcreeps on a floor
littered with fragments of straws.Porcelain eggs that fooled the hens
grow deeply cold.On the workbench
a heavy magnifying glassbegins to frost over.
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Copyright © 2012 Martha Carlson-Bradley All rights reserved
from If I Take You Here
Adastra Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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