Frost has started
the hues are faded now.
I breathe and savor cold
on uncontested paths.
Winter suits my wandering
in between the torrents
a softer tread
a crisper vision
my howls travel farther.
What should I gather?
I chase more than I need.
Give me dry sticks and matches
I'll suffer nights
beside a crackle of embers
to wake with passions intact
with boots that need thawing.
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