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sisters & sparrows

Poetry. Photography. Life.

I woke up this morning to the most incredible hoar frost.  It was so beautiful.  But I didn’t have my camera on me, more’s the pity.  Lost (& found again) my purse, so my cards are cancelled.  Holed up again in my living room in a blanket trying to finish my essay.  Can’t wait to get back to Shrewsbury for Christmas.

Here’s a little gem of a poem for you.

Hoar Frost

Amy Lowell

In the cloud gray mornings
I heard the herons Flying
And when I came into my garden,
My silken outer-garment
Trailed over withered leaves.
A dried leaf crumbles at a touch,
But I have seen many Autumns
With herons blowing like smoke
Across the sky.



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