“King of Winter”

King of Winter


Come hither, non yonder

and hark the song of the Robin,

perched upon snow covered sills on our coldest morns.

Here is he who takes nothing for granted.

Peak closer, not unto January’s horizon,

toward he, 

the most striking of monarchs,

singing a melody of addiction and fayre

standing proud as her King of Winter.

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©Nick Hawkins, all poetry rights reserved

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