
The aspen trees bend under unyielding March winds. The grove moans swaying violently in the late winter storm. The early birds disappear having come north too soon. Another log on the fire thwarts the rising chill in the air. Blankets, put up a week earlier are pulled from the winter chest. The tea kettle whistles as the homestead snuggles up and settles down for winter’s last gasp.

I like poems about seasons and weather and nature. This one is excellently composed and laid-out. Well done, Sue.
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Thanks so much, Bill😊
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Nice one, Sue!!
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What a lovely tribute to the last winter storm.
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A great description of how winter has a last fling!
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We have a place on the floor at the foot of our bed where we keep throwing the extra quilt. One night we desperately need it, the next it is so hot we’re throwing everything off. Strange times. 😘
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Ah, winter’s last hurrah! Well done, Sue.
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Thanks so much 😊
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You’re welcome. 😊
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Great poetry that had a affect on me, it made me turn the heat up.
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Glad you enjoyed it, Geri😊
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