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DECEMBER AT MY CABIN
(After Tu Fu)
The trail through the woods
is covered with snow.
The creek is also iced over.
In a nearby tree, a cardinal
looks for food. He must eat.
He has to work for it.
In winter nothing is free.
I watch the sun sink,
as if it were looking
for a place to rest.
I’ve written this
with a brain as dead as clay.
I gaze out my window.
I think this snow is here to stay.