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February
By A F Harrold
From Things You Find in a Poet's Beard by A.F. Harrold
Frost spins white lines
on the lawn,
grass turns glass-like,
crisp crackle-snap
underfoot.
Robins puff themselves,
look as big as tennis balls,
as light as dandelions,
tap on the bird bath’s
ice rink concrete.
There’s the doorbell.
A blue-lipped lady
wants to come in.
The doormat
flutters with snow.