oot
Among the meadow that surrounds The trail which I follow now February’s foot strikes the ground. Reckoning with my winter muse, Her footsteps continue to resound Behind me in the crystal dew.
February, slender and lithe In gown of silvered azure. Her frosty step is bright and blithe As she escorts me through the grass Which, touched by her gusty skirts, writhe And sway between us as we pass.
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