mist, rising from the frozen snow,
beckoned to say:
come out -- feel the breath of spring . . .
but it was so silent, raw, and sunless . . .
on that blank white canvas
of snow into sky where
mist rose from the frozen snow
at the end of the day.
Snow came near the turning of the year; rain on warmer days washed it away: the weather is undecided as to the season Follow the coyote'...
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