And the black-robed conifers
It’s December your birthday again
And the pain of the cold
Harbinger of death
Preparer of life
Lets snow into the valley fields
Like cattle to graze somewhere
Standing deep in meditation
Of course you know which
Valleys I mean which creeks
Where you can see the blood of the earth
As with you I touched something
That friendship which gives us
Back to ourselves as us
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