The New Year thaws have woken sleeping willows.
They've fluffed gray brushes of quite unusual bloom.
Snowfalls dust them to hide from frosty winter.
Fur flowers look so great in sparkling suit.
The bluebirds are confused with the fur flowers.
They cry and dance on the thin willows branches.
They call warm spring to weak the winter power,
but time of warmth is far. Strict frosts lock land.
The semi-open buds will not endure
the winter frosts. The heaven wraps them tight
into a shawl, but it is insecure.
Life is too fragile. The flowers have to die.
by Thea Ariss
22.01.2026
The New Year thaws have woken sleeping willows
© Copyright: Тея Арис, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126012206824
Свидетельство о публикации №126012206824
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