the winter of the soul
is filled with light.
life slows down
under the snow.
walk in the cold breeze
of an evening,
then re-turn
to the fireplace.
to be alone
and warm
and quiet
prepared for the night
when the foxes
stalk their prey
and bark behind
the house
from which icicles
sparkle in the moonlight.
i do not try to catch
stars, they are too far.
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