sunlight rarely shafting.
Creek tumbles over icy brilliants, churn
in snow melt surge.
Come summer trickles black green, floating
dry leaf, seed laden twigs.
Above the corded bridge logs twist
the track skywards to Dead Horse Gap.
Once spring snow floated flaking
wet petals, dissolved on your face in soft fog.
Caught in old memory
you wept and laughed aloud
by Leatherbarrel.
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