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WINTER MORNING WALKS
by Ted Kooser

Just as a dancer, turning and turning,
may fill the dusty light with the soft swirl
of her flying skirts, our weeping willow –
now old and broken, creaking in the breeze –
turns slowly, slowly in the winter sun,
sweeping the rusty roof of the barn
with the pale blue lacework of her shadow.

Photo: K&D Graphics, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED