Resurrecting ghosts
the snow blows under the bridge
beneath the train staiton
blowing a invisible bell
weighted in emotion
tunnelling over a day
foretold in images over frozen lakes
shawled over empty hills
and ringing bells pausing
in a silent moment of reflection
filing our footprints in silence
our hands into snowmen
wishing we had put our boots on
and our toches in our pockets
to follow the stars home.
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