wild hollow hoarlight

The hoar frost encases every twig,
A cold aura shining.
The wild light from the low sun
Lifting the clouds,
Looking for lost secrets
Under their cushions.
The cold lurks in the hollows.
Colours are quiet, drab, modest,
Hiding their promise
Beneath their winter coats.

Yvonne Aburrow
8:52 am, 20 April 2022

Inspired by the phrase “wild hollow hoarlight” in Spelt from Sibyl’s Leaves

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