how will you bear
witness to this winter’s
living temple in-
between the flooded hollows
where wandering cattle have
bent the tussocks low?
then .......... speaks
a gentle refuge prayer
and ..........’s breath
covers all that is
here: the grass
the sunken tracks, and your
own temple-spired hands
with a soft layer of
radiant rime
Poem and photo by D. Godin
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