Now broods above the wooded lea
A soft, star-spangled lullaby
The lyricist of wind and tree
Tugs at the timbre of the sky
The land is carved twixt scarves of sea
And set between its solemn surge
To stun us with a melody
That turns from jubilee to dirge
The countryside is still as death
Beneath the pallor of the snow
The sound of silence steals our breath
As round and round and round we go
© Janet Martin
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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!