Winter Duet
I live far, far North of sustainable warmth.
At times in winter, it's so cold
that the snow under my boots
goes into frosty death rattle mode.
It's within this hue of brutal
that an unknown entity cries out softly.
It sounds more birdlike or like the soul of a white moth.
I think it's praying for sunshine-while begging for a crumb.
I'd like to help, but its cries just drift off.
Forming a duet with my boots beneath the frozen gloaming.
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