Still no snow.
Rain and fog and warm temperatures
lend a swamp-like character.
My trees, their bare skeletons drooping,
stand bedraggled and waterlogged;
the view from my window is of a drab,
silent, wretched world.
No sun. No blue sky. No wind.
Winter has yet to make his entrance;
Will he come at all?
© Ellie Maziekien
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