Sparrows forage through thorns
for a taste of clustered sun,
morning glitters a crystal
frost etching the edge
of a dragon-wing leaf.
Winter’s chill shifts as January
dives into lesser degrees
and gathered sticks hold
a promise of fervent heat.
May will plait crowns
for fairies and angels
who dance night blessings
among evergreen amulets.
But tonight, we’ll drift
a snowfall moon.
Day is a hawthorn berry
swallowed.
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