WINTER'S AWE

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Piercing stillness
	an ache for a landscape
	of fresh carpeted snow . . .

It Is Here My Dreams of Wolves Persist.

Land of virgin
	terrain, unkind to Man,
	haven to
	all things free and Wild.

It Is Here My Heart Beats in Unison.

I become all vapor
	of staggering Enchantment -
each
	fiber of my being alert
	with stalking Perception.

I feel at home with
	the transient dimensions of Nature, untouched
in breathless
	miles of hushed revibrance. . .

Alive only
	when the Forest
	Echoes its rare gift of mysteries unveiled -

For It Is Here My Dreams of Wolves Persist.

WHAT'S LEFT OF THEM.




Border and graphics created by S.Stumpf ©)

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