Mist of time
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This is the mist of time,
the nether days
when sleepy winter
way-leaves for trees to wake,
nudging spring from slumberous torpor.
Snow becomes snowdrops.
Crocus choirs strike up early colour.
Lambs tails drip from branches
as chandeliers, pendant jewellery,
and the early buds of new season
begin the gossip
that speaks of fresh redoubt.
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