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by Candace Turner

Winter’s icy breath beckons
Follow Me
Follow Me

My path is clear
I am ready to go

Into the wood

I am old
I am tired

My warm breeze seasons have passed
Fall’s colorful canopy lies beneath my feet
Mother earth cradles me in her cold lap

In this my last winter
Under my blanket of many colors
I lie down peacefully
To sleep
To wait

For my spirit to begin again


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