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Trees in the Mist

Standing here I sometimes look over fields broad sweep,
in spring and summer hedges bloom – but now all sleep.
Hush now birds, be still and rest, wake none with your song
The blanket of this season’s mists comforts winter long.

Those who would wake with the dawn – linger in your dreams
The sun is in bed he’ll not wake us with his beams
Sleep he may, a year he’s toiled marking seasons’ run
Satisfied, his rest he takes knowing his work’s well done.