Castings of white in the early morn
soft blanket of frost upon the grass;
it coats the barren sleeping oak,
the maple and the evergreens—
what, pray tell, has come to pass?
The fairies and woodland sprites
have enlisted the north wind to their aid
and in the sleepy, predawn light
we are greeted by this sight
woven throughout a winter’s night.
© Ginny Brannan 2023
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Thank you for reading my poetry and sharing your thoughts.