*
Deep snow against my legs asking
a higher step then I'm used to
I'm watching the little spindly
legs of the sheep girls,
the goat-sharp tails fan
ahead of the sheep.
We stride hard to make the most
wonderful slushing noises. Every part of this body
begins to sing; arms 'n'
thighs-belly, shoulders-chest. Cold
backward chills rush my
nose. This hairline exposed, warm
moist breath pressing,
trim ears. Remind me I'm alive
Raven, who cart-tumbles
black ebony bone pressed
against the bruised blue sky. I stretch,
twirl big boots and heavy rain gear, the dog
can't tell which is laughing.
The forest
or me.
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