What has been, will be again.
Ice crystals radiate from a windblown seed.
The Green River signals change in the air.
The gracious bark of a butternut in winter.
One life into another.
Fern moss raises its standards atop a fallen black birch in mid-winter.
This land has seen me before.
A fragment of the past year.
Black locust casts its future on the beaver pond ice.
Summer’s abundance was here.
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