Walk the rails under a high blue sky. Find the sag in the leaning fence, and step--carefully--over rusted wire. Follow a peninsula of blond grasses through a lake of loam, and come, at last, to the timber's edge where gray branches trace the sky and rose hips curl near purple canes.
Glorious! These photographs put me in mind of your poem "I am wanting winter" ...
ReplyDeleteThank you! It's fun share these with a fellow lover of winter.
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