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Bill Leslie's Carolina Conversations

Middle of the Week Poetry

Posted January 19, 2006 10:09 a.m. EST














Winter winds blow cold,
Cleansing the sky of clutter,
Leaving behind patches of fire,
Clouds the color of bruises,
Bare trees become one with the sun.
Savor the silhouette,
Echoes of darkness,
The wounded healer,
The promise of tomorrow.