A Passage in the Snow

The smell of mistletoe
and newly felled wood,
Through a flicker of candle light
and candle mass,
a figure emerges.
Decked-out in sack-cloth
and winter finery.
All hail the dark night
at the edges of our world,
unrefined and unbroken.
All hail the fondness,
we hold such simple things.
And the passing of time.
And the footprints,
so small and indistinct.
A passage in the snow.
A way we hope to go.

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