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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Winter Being What It Is

The cold
is a great blue rock.
Cover me with the frost
of your little stars.
I lost yesterday
in dreariness.
I am a creature
of the sun,
of seashells and gold.
I barely make it through winter.

Today,
snowdrops blossom,
nineteen colonies in my yard.
How I rejoice
to find their caps of pearl!
I will show Jack their bravery,
in the middle of winter,
smiling gnomes.
Today,
the sky itself burst open.
Yesterday everything was dark.
My spirit lifts like a gull,
loving winter for what it is,
and being permanent as a cloud.

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