Near Fredericksburg

Bare trees lean to their burden,

their ravaged wings suppliant.

First snow, gnarled by night, lurches,

each flake injured in descent.

The smallest tree's lowest limb

cradles the final rag rent

from the sky Sunlight requires

that we see the dark arm, thin

as a wrist, waving a night's

passage: white flag, anger spent.

Shannon Keith Kelley

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