At Christmas I no more desire a rose than wish a snow in May's new fangled mirth..

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Before snows reach the tops of the
Hills, named mountains
Leaves & wings gathering in the wind
A swirl of wonder
I pause,
Take note of these passing moments that,
Once I note them, have already passed.
🌬🍃🍂
'Les ailes dans le vent' 1919

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