There are no leaves
just naked boughs
reaching
into darkness
with fingers
stripped of summer,
where once
they danced together
to the music of the wind
and dappled sunlight’s
melodies
tonight is only
the slow weight,
the heavy wait
of winter
because
there are no leaves.
This is a spectacular poem!
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where there are dead leaves
there is still a deadly ground
–Jack White combined with Questlove
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