It Is The First Snow Of The Season

It is the first snow of the season, on the last day of the year, a flake floats in the air, a flake floats into my hair, I walk in the falling, among the aspen I find delight, and as the ground becomes white, I watch a flake fall on my hand, and I am loving this land, even though I know it cannot be, that it will ever love me

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