Scavenger

Winter has picked the trees bare And left skeletons of branches, A calligraphy of twigs, Houses naked to the sky. The homeless wind has come and gone, Leaving the night brittle in still air. Time now for clarity and change, Even as hedgerows vanish, Growing less limiting under A blur of snow. Stars lean nigh, We stand and ponder, defined, Knowing, finally, our form and range.

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