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She
On a hill overlooking a pond,
She stands alone--
Dressed in green.
Glorious in a mantle of silver,
Caressed by moonlight.
She sways gently with
The music of Northern winds--
Scattering glistening gems of
Snow with each languid motion.
Sir Owl dressed in snowy white
Gossips to her then--
“…has to fly. Ta! Ta!…”
She waves gently ‘goodbye’
And waits alone.
12/00
Very imaginative!
Starward