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Wet and cold
Torrents of mud-brown waters
Flowing against me as I climb
This south wind imposter
The north wind in disguise
A field full of thrushes
Rises as I pass
Dissipates into the mist
As if they were all just a dream.
I'm finding the crows
beautiful today
The way they fly
Long-fingered
Outstretched arms
Hugging the sky
Roughly
Embracing the wildness
of winter weather
In their element.

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