Under the pristine Winter sun
a December melody plays
cool blue notes gather
and traipse
into frozen footprints
Robins forage for earthworms
and ripened berries
their crimson chests
resemble tiny roses
sprouting up from the snow
with grey wings
wrapping round like leaves
Feathers float from the sky
a neverending pillow fight
each flake twirling towards
its own issued fate
Bowls of twig and mud
prop themselves patiently
atop tables of Evergreen
cradling pale blue eggs
snuggled deep in new dreams
Cups of cones overflow
with icy dew
fragile, no longer sticky
nor traces of past residue
Soon, new songs will echo
from this familiar landscape
of chirps and whistles
melting the tired earth
with promises of green
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