Under the Snow

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In their burrows deep underground, rabbits stir, huddled – but on warmer days

they poke out their heads, sniffing the air until the hawk fills their nostrils.

And the earth is moving too, releasing her warmth, opening

her pores drinking in the melted snow, as the seeds

begin to burst, just waiting – to break

through the ground.

       

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies

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