in the frozen mud, a honeycomb of tracks from men, beasts and machines -- a temporary fossil record of all that has recently preceeded me
swelling magnolia buds
cold air holding only the faintest scents of animal musk, a shovel-full of earth and somehow, the idea of clover
crows, crows, crows and killdeer
sap dripping into buckets
geese crowded into thin moving currents
cubist trees in ice
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