As the Pen Thaws

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On long, balmy summer nights
In the pleasant heat and darkness
I walked the shores of the river
Free with my solitude
I climbed trees
And mountains
Thoughts and phrases flowed instantly
Pen to paper, like mother to child
Thought to word, egg to bird

But balmy summer nights turn
To crisp autumn twilight
Turns to frigid winter darkness
Pen and paper turn cold
Thoughts become cloaked in a veil
The river seals itself in ice
Trees are dead
Mountains loom

But frigid winter darkness
Must become balmy again
The pen chips ice from the river
And I wait again for balmy pleasant heat





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