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  • Katie Frieheit

Glacial Season

I have been known to complain

Of these winter days.

When temperatures plummet

And icicles form.


When the ponds become frozen

And sap stops pouring.

Geese fly away,

Birds fluff their jackets,

And foxes make their dens.



This is the death of winter.

But the truth is.

I often feel more alive than ever

On these frozen afternoons.


When frost bites my lips,

Crisp wind batters fingertips,

And Snow coats my eyelashes.

I can see my breath

On these sunset afternoons

And I know more than ever

That I am alive.


The sun makes love with the horizon

It does not leave that sacred spot all day,

It oozes and beams

Never to crest overhead.

The pain of winter,

It breaks my heart.

How it forces me to scream:

"I am alive!"


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