Curling the string of lights,
weaving it through your hair
with frost and pine needle pins,
you wait.
Below, the world sits frozen.
Crystal clouds steal silence
from their pockets and sprinkle it in snow.
Still you sleep above it all,
gaining your strength for that perfect moment.
Sap and moss and pine cones gone
to sweet, calling every hungry squirrel,
soon to be discarded, pale...
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