Sixty-three Lost

Sixty Three Lost

evergreen, but sometimes white
the needles and branches frozen over
with a thin persistent layer of ice
cracking when wind changes directions
neck cracking with sudden changes
also
the cool air embeds a stiffness in joints
there is blood in the ground
was
now in the trees
in their leaves maybe
drawn upwards through xylem
war drums beat faintly
echoing through time
with the sound of boots crunching ice
in tune with anxieties and memories
some that are not mine
I am looking
or trying not to look
trying not to try
I am here
in the woods
nowhere else
mind experiencing body
and though sometimes white
everything is
forever green

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