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Winter is five ravens overhead
whirling in a white wind.
Winter is you and me
and the steel-blue lake we walk beside,
her islands disappearing
in veils of snow.
Winter is a white cat,
stalking,
and, finally, the wind at our backs--
a pot of tulips on the table,
pale bodies straining toward the light,
pink-gold faces whispering Spring.
From Crow Ink (Little Eagle Press, 2009).
Used here with the author's permission.
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Sharon Auberle loves water and winter, the subjects of many of her poems. She is happy to be back in the land of her roots--the Midwest, after nearly twenty years in the drought-stricken Southwest. There, she spent much time dreaming of water--in all its forms. The author of two books--Saturday Nights at the Crystal Ball, a memoir in poetry, and Crow Ink, a collection of her poetry and photos--when not writing or out in the woods, Sharon may be found hanging poems and pictures at her website--Mimi's Golightly Café.
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