Posted in Uncategorized

Self-Portrait

Like a fingerprint, each snow leaves behind its own impression.

This one seems poured from the sky like a heavenly cream
filling the bowl of our land to the brim of the stone wall.

But it arrived, not like milk at all.

It was fine and soft and swift and swirly.

The air made the difference.

Bitter. Cruel.

Just like life
shapes
us.

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Author:

Lifelong educator, writer, yoga & yogadance instructor.

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