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Mar 2013
i
In all this white and grey
the world dissolves,
first flakes gone slanting
to the folding river,
gathering at last in grey velvet
streets. Wet snow
laying on the reaching trees,
the waking trees - yellow-haired willow
waiting in a field of white.

ii
Something wild stands alone
in a rift of open water.
Spindle legs, body white as
simplicity, serpent neck and jaws
narrowing to a fine point. How still!
He dreams the snowy land.
Written by
Robert Kralapp
951
     Lior Gavra and Terry Collett
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