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Crabapple Robins

Ice glazed tips, on coal black branch

a robin shivers. Eyeing shriveled morsels.

Snowflakes drift yet robin’s trills herald’s spring

and a promise.

Slush dribbles down the window. Winter mold

covers shaded grass adorned with faint shrew paths.

Up then down a nuthatch skitters on the old elm,

seeking spiders, oblivious of gravity. The crabapple robin

sings on a melancholy, cloud scudding day. South Africa beckons


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