Winter

Blankly gazing out the window at 
snow muffling the world, 

I dreamed a*
I am a voyeur watching while the 
ragged woodpile slowly dresses itself in 
soft white as ground's dead leaves assume a matching robe. 
dream that made me
Naked limbs who normally drape in summer green ivy 
waft white wisps from bridal boughs, 
stirring powder, breeze blanched, 
sad, concerning myself and the
down onto the jumbled woodpile, 
down onto the rotting leaves, 
mending my world white. 
first few friends I had.

* Words by Bob Dylan
Ray Ostrander, 1974 
Revised 1998 

 

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