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Winter Burial

ISSUE:  Winter 1989
She pulls her sled along the woods road
to the hill where cows sleep
between rocks in summer.
Nothing is on her mind.

Her chair pushed back
from the breakfast table,
milk streaks wiped away
are tracks filling in behind her
with a light snow.

She has forgotten the hard side
of winter, but it comes as no surprise
when she crests a rise and finds
the calves that have died
in the cold months piled
under the trees, the snow smoothing over
the wild eyes she has seen before.

There is no kindness left
to the morning. No cruelty,
but a deep indifference
that wastes no time.


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