Winter

It seems as if the whole world has frozen,

Everything quiet and still,

The trees are gnarled and arthritic fingers,

Thrusting darkly, starkly into cloudless sky,

As gray-blue as newborn eyes,

The ground a cold blanket of white,

Enveloping the land,

Blocking out all life and warmth,

Paradise or Hell,

The eye of the beholder

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