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Caught up
in frosty silence
Entranced
By the beauty of stillness
And peace.
Even the crows are quiet
In these sacred hills
Mossy walls
Luxurious in velvet green,
A soft contrast to
stone hard ground
I notice my breath
In small clouds rising
Like incense
As I sing.
Friction unreliable
I'm losing my grip
Then finding it
On the thinnest ice.

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