The sun casts its apricity against the bitter wind,
trying to convince us that it is our friend.
And though it cooks us in the summer, in winter, I admit,
when it warms us with its rays, I pray it will not quit.
Frozen in the wilderness, I resume my plea
that the rays of father Sol will manage to find me.
Once they desert their provenance, do those rays remember he
gave them clear direction to be sure to shine on me?
Prompt word are apricity (the warmth of the sun in winter, obsolete) cook, provenance, bitter, wilderness, resume.
excellent and I love Father Sol
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I like that one Judy, now tell him how to get rid of all those damn trees the ice storm knocked down, But, like your poem, how can I complain, he has brought out the plum, peach, and red bud tree buds and covered the floor around the broken branches into full flower blooms here~!
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Nature destroys, covers up and gives new birth.
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We just need to be patient, I guess.
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I know this feeling…
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