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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=559215" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>In Winter Still</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The axe through the wooden piles plows through <br>Cleaving, a wintry fog and dry rain leaving, <br>And chips of timber and clovers left in silence pondering</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To cleave, splitting a rock in twain<br>To cleave, each half of the rock once did to each other<br>To leave, to cleave and no longer to cleave</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A subtle rebirth in passive cycles, yielding the calves<br>In rebuttal to sterile winter staleness, triggering the valves<br>Of life beyond winter’s paleness, and winter’s comfort</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A world of water, a planet of liquid, full of motion<br>Churning like oceans as leaves are turned on trees<br>Tuning to the shape of the wind in flexible notions</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The boughs unyielding, in fruit and frozen in place<br>In still pursuit of life again from hibernation, a close<br>Of remembrance, hoping to shine in snowy clothing</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But feeling no loathing in winter still, calm serenity’s<br>Waves rolling upon the earth to refreshen the life that is<br>Paused, a cessation of action in which to reflect the green</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That once was, the palette of brown twigs, and auburn leaves<br>And the empty trees, knowing their leaves are buried <br>Under whited mounds know they shall return springing</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And in winter still, the whited mounds rest, their time<br>On the ground to hide what lies beneath, all kept in humble<br>Slumber, in warmth of dreams in shivering air</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The wintry fog, bellowing sonorities to nights and fugues <br>To the daylight, conducts an orchestra of intrigues, <br>Making its own lost paradise a paradise lost</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And deep red, yellow, burnt brown leaves perish in <br>Internment as the cycle continues; they will rise again<br>Even in falling, they will continue, even in death</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dunes of radiant snow, some days shining with the sun, <br>Blinding those watching, what makes some days so bleak<br>Illuminates them far beyond what the grass ever could</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Most seasons burying what the ground will never open<br>Up and swallow, in the snowy months, the flakes will rain, <br>Begin a shallow dynasty and reign over sod and soil</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Upon which men trod, but no longer, in winter still<br>Letting the white arcades dominate the land, for they may<br>Be moved, but never dethroned in months of chill</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Although the wind blows harshly, and trees stand naked, <br>And the grass is dominated by chilling forces unabated<br>Somehow, there is warmth in winter still.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Hunter+Hansen">Hunter Hansen</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=559215" data-title="In Winter Still de Hunter Hansen" data-description="The axe through the wooden piles plows through 
Cleaving, a wintry fog and dry rain leaving, 
And chips of timber and clovers left in silence pondering

To cleave, splitting a rock in twain
To cleave, each half of the rock once did to each other
T..."></div>
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