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Brian Yule Mar 2019
She dared sketch symphonies in the winterdark dawn

Faint snatches of melody yet not fully formed

I felt her dignity, frail but unbending

Broken bursts of half-sensed hope: expanding, still pending

I held on heady to each forming refrain

Aching for each frost-cloud breath to scent spring

A phoenix ending

Patchwork dawning

New foaled, febrile, fragile thing

A few notes shy of resolution

— The End —