you thought

didn't you

those brown ivory white tan

glimmering shavings

dropped from Carver's hands

scattered upon winter boughs

were imperfect tares unwanted

yet

your eye is drawn

toward silken grace

bursting from heaven's stars

somehow captured

by frosted stems fragile

seed and leaf shavings

set free in frigid wind

as Creator's hands worked

infinitely patient

willing to labor an eternity

just so we can see

beauty glinting here this light

during winter's fading stand

​

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