THE PINES
THE PINES
LIKE WHITE CLAD MONKS IN MEDITATION
STOOD UPON THE HILL
THE CLOUDS HEAVILY LADEN
STRUGGLED IN THE SKY
THE WIND MADE SPORT WITH THE LOOSE SNOW
PILING IT AGAINST THE FENCE
BUT A LITTLE BROOK FORGETTING IT WAS WINTER
LAUGHED ITS WAY ACROSS A SNOW FILLED FIELD
FRANK A VOLLMER
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