Winter Night Sonnet

How many winter nights
I had flown with the ravens
between snow and starfield
to alight on a pine branch
and roost with black feathers
puffed to the cold and shining

But I never dreamt of mice
tunneling beneath the snow
warm and drowsy and sated
from the bark of young apples
so snug and unmindful of
the muffled hum of moonlight

Until the sky engulfed me
in its vast and frozen sadness.

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Published by

Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner

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