as the days breathe chilled
air through the cracks of
hours, so do we settle
into the chest of Winter,
pulling close to its slow
beat, huddling to warm
moments, nestling into
hibernation of soul, and
frosted self; such is the
way of it when this
season calls and holds
us to its ancient breast.
air through the cracks of
hours, so do we settle
into the chest of Winter,
pulling close to its slow
beat, huddling to warm
moments, nestling into
hibernation of soul, and
frosted self; such is the
way of it when this
season calls and holds
us to its ancient breast.
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