Bodenfrost.....
morgens an der Altmühl
*******
Wie läßt sich der November an?
So sanft, wie er es kaum getan.
Ein leiser Wind, ein milder Hauch,
und kleine Blumen blühen auch
im Grase hier und dort. -
Und auf den Gräbern, streng und starr,
welkt, was noch heut‘ im Leben war.
© Dr. Carl Peter Fröhling
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