Standing in this open field, snow falling softly,
settling on me, on earth, these trees, old woods,
here only for now. Only for now, this land
belonging to us: me, these gentle people, birds,
badgers deep under the hard ground.
For now it all pauses, snow falls
as if in slow motion, everything is held just as it is.
Safe. Standing here at the scene of the crime,
while it has not yet happened, trees still standing,
as if there still could be wisdom in the world,
as if there still could be hope.
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