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Dec 2013
I could have stood there for hours
listening to the owls love song ring across the barren fields,
but my ears and fingers were freezing.
I tried to rub some warmth back into them,
straining to hear the birds again,
but all was still.
The only sound-the falling snow hitting the firs.
The owls had gone.
Elizabeth Novak
Written by
Elizabeth Novak  America
(America)   
924
   tom krutilla
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