I'm going to rip off Mrs. Minor and publish here a beautiful poem by Robert Frost that I had not read before. And I was just noticing how very big and black these crows appear against the pure white landscape -- twice as big as during ordinary weather.
Dust of Snow
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree,
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And changed some part
Of a day I had rued.
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Veritas odit moras - Truth hates delay. (Seneca)
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