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​The sun returns, a lengthening thread To stitch the wounded earth from white to green ​A whispered argument with what was dead. ​Beneath the frost, a stubborn, hidden bed Of bulbs now stirs—a bold, unyielding scene ​Their pushing is a question thinly spread. ​The river, loosed from its icy stead, Chants melt and motion, restless and keen, A fluid claim where frozen words had fled. ​Then hope, not mild, but in sharp temper bred, Wears winter’s doubt like a mantle, seen ​In light that argues with the dark it.
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Jan 11
Jan 11, 2026 at 10:10 AM UTC
January
​The sun returns, a lengthening thread To stitch the wounded earth from white to green ​A whispered argument with what was dead. ​Beneath the frost, a stubborn, hidden bed Of bulbs now stirs—a bold, unyielding scene ​Their pushing is a question thinly spread. ​The river, loosed from its icy stead, Chants melt and motion, restless and keen, A fluid claim where frozen words had fled. ​Then hope, not mild, but in sharp temper bred, Wears winter’s doubt like a mantle, seen ​In light that argues with the dark it.
World News January
AngelXJ
Written by
32/F/London, UK
Jan 11
Jan 11, 2026 at 10:10 AM UTC
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