Icy clear movement, smooth stones turning on the bottom of the writhing river

Grey air


Rain dropping in remembrance

Those who have walked

Used all their days


Knowledge stacked in windy recollections

Knocking on the roof, sneaking under our doors to deliver one last breath…

Cold quiet wind, arching, bending

Flexibility of oneness


Tapping leaves with gentle persistence

A reminder of what we wait to learn, cutting through the night

Filling the still darkness with

Precious icicles of what used to be


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