Winter-song

by Chris Russo

Icicle branches and
Jack-Frost-embossed bark
Rasp and click to
A chill wind-rhythm.
The trees contort in castanet dance.
A thousand
Whispered ruwach-voices
Sing monophonic plainchant, while,
Frozen far above in a
Black-ice sky,
A star lends her cold soprano.
My very breath is hushed, to hear
The night’s orchestral winter-song.

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