The cold speaks only one solemn word
That would pronounce us dead
That could be why the snow pretends
The stillness of a corpse
To show us how to rest content
With all this fallenness
Rehearsing the funeral of the world
And yet the body stirs
As we sit and wait
It rolls over in its sleep
Only dreaming it's dead
At least I felt it when I woke
Green entering my bones
Infant sun stretching out its hands
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