WINTER CROWS HOUSE SILENCE winter gnawing on bones its breath a fog shaking its hard wet fists the ten thousand crows of the high ground speak all at once of their misery my house is surrounded with mirrors the trees are hung with frost when the sun can shine there is twice the shining if I stay in place long enough the new neighbors will say I am a stranger to them the crows will speak of me as of a familiar comfort but to those who can't understand their speaking is as good as silence
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