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December Stillness
There is something in me that loves the white
Of new soft snow, all quiet,
No wing aflight.
I need this steady diet
Of stark stright trees against the grey light,
Of feeling, but not seeing natures cruel fight.
The cold it wanders lost throughout my bones.
Its feel, its life, its death doth hone
This single thought -
That I am here alone,
And this, this is what I've sought.
