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August 4, 2015
I am buried again in the soft
belly of dream.
My bare feet are sliding
through hard ice crystals
of re-frozen snow while the wind
opens my shirt
and the icy chill soothes the fire on my brow.
I can feel the cold passing through me,
rivulets touching my bones and muscles
as I climb in the dark,
starlight reflecting off the snow.
I can feel my toes
slipping on the ice
and dropping into
the frozen pack below.
And still I am climbing, fingertips
touching the ground
touching saplings
touching the points of stars
embedded in the ice below.