The icicles hang, little glassy guards,
Keeping watch in broken shards.
They speak in silence, drip by drip—
A season’s pause on winter’s lip.
From A Poem A Day: All Continental Europe


The icicles hang, little glassy guards,
Keeping watch in broken shards.
They speak in silence, drip by drip—
A season’s pause on winter’s lip.
From A Poem A Day: All Continental Europe

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