The day widens
in the land of trees
the bare branches smile
in the lengthening rays
The days broadens
in the far northwest
the lighthouse beckons
from the ancient rocks
Snow blankets still
the land of trees
frost paints
the expectant branches
Wind sweeps
in the ancient isles
clouds past the
ascending sun
Winter still holds
its firmest grip
yet the promise is there
for the coming spring
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