Snowdrop Dancing

Somehow always there
as if the earth’s clock
keeps a marker

she dances
against a backdrop
of black earth melting ice.

First the green fingers
then she hangs out haunting ornaments,
irons out the frills from her dress.

One brittle cough could break winter
but she loves the frost
in her hair,

always dancing
with a heart beat of snow
as the clock ticks and cold snap lingers.

Snowdrop Dancing

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