Poem

The trees had cast off their deep green winter liveries so that the naked branches wove ghostly brown patterns into the misty sky.The mornings and evenings were alike told apart only by the twilight which, haunted the mornings.The dawns beheld no auroral spectrum and the dusks were grey, long and still-broken only by the occasional sobs of the rising wind.Frost clung to the bosom of the earth-white and glistening, a funeral garb over the dead earth.