Winter
Ladybirds asleep under the bark of trees,
a newly minted moon keeping watch.
The sky rubbing itself raw,
bandaged with fraying clouds.
The tuck and wrap of scarves,
the pink itch of woollen layers.
Spiders skating on sinks,
lurking in hairy plugholes.
Cars bejewelled in white and silver,
the wipers' keen arc erasing the old year.
Helen Addy
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