a poem by Geoffrey -. Hoffman, UK

And now two seasons play at dice,
And now grey winter’s iron hand
With a twisting of the wrist
Throws the six that autumn missed,
And takes the trophy of the land.
Winter, if it had its way,
Would win the universe at play,
And build a prison out of ice.

But underneath earth’s frozen rind
The tiny lives that will not die
Snuggle together to survive.
A robin on a leafless tree
Flutters and chatters cheerfully -
A touch of red in a world of snow,
With tiny, curious eyes aglow,
Warm, undefeated, and alive.
And as the robins, so live we
Though under human roofs we lie,
Safe from the white death in the sky.

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