Last night we earned this dawn, traveling through the blizzard from the ski mountain to home. This morning, tangerine sunrise in creamy sky, golden window-pane shapes sliding across the stone fireplace, the flames below leaping safe in the dark square, far from the paling power of the sun.
Snow sticks to the branches, stark against the blue, blue sky. On the trail, corgis blast through powder, ears streaming behind, crossing tracks of other night travelers. The magical marmot says to enjoy it while it lasts.
A sneeze in snowy
bushes—tail flicks away: deer
on Groundhog’s morning.
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