
Low winter light
buried by snow,
all sounds threaded
in gracile knots,
while the trees drip,
while we tingle with silence,
we breath again,
as though we have come up for air
in a world that was once underwater.
•

Low winter light
buried by snow,
all sounds threaded
in gracile knots,
while the trees drip,
while we tingle with silence,
we breath again,
as though we have come up for air
in a world that was once underwater.

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