A Winter Poem from Emily Dickinson
The sky is low, the clouds are mean,A travelling flake of snow
Across a barn or through a rut
Debates if it will go.
A narrow wind complains all day
How some one treated him;
Nature, like us, is sometimes caught
Without her diadem.
– Emily Dickinson
Labels: Arts
posted by Karen Nelson @ 12:13 PM
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