Under the grey,
though elder stark is still,
yew scans these breeze lilts
running quiet fringes along quaver lines
deep locks swaying breve.
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Wintering
ПоэзияIt's yet another MajorSeventh. Hop on the big shoulders and look ... Lastest poems are always posted last in my collections. Winter. So, expect sparse gardens, late autumn and wintry countryside, wry philosophy and humour, tenderness towards litt...
