Finland


Wind sharpened crystals,
glistening upon pine needles.
Inhaled deeply,
tearing raw flesh with it's long, pale fingers.

The trees seize to climb,
retreating into the earth like cowering children.
Black birds landing upon their crowns,
searching for a  pulse.

The silent life of the Nordic pine,
eyes closed deeply.
Limbs surrender to the white,
the long awaited winter.


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