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Caribou
Bouquet, from a Snow Hike
Here's my valentine Tom,
who slides through the snow with aplomb;
if he shows up blue-bruised,
he is faintly amused:
discomfort is part of the sit-com.
Here's my lover, the air,
who comes with me whenever I dare;
his arms will enfold me
his spirit can mold me,
one with him, however I fare.
Here's my lover the hoar . . .
frost, in whose garden I find my heart's core
lost; in her glistening I see
heaven's eye wink at me,
and I'm transformed, what'er the more cost.
Here are all you friends out there skiing.
I join in your freedom of being;
'neath snow-laden branches
with no avalanches,
on slopes that roll on beyond seeing.
CNH 2-14-03
For
more info, contact Cassandra
Hancock. |
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