Boots and Gloves

No more precious, little
words. This will all be
said nude sitting in the
winter woods. From here,
I dream of furs and fire,
of how wild animals survive
the night. The owl, whose
eyes are two full moons
clawing at the stars. And
all the promises I'd keep
if wolves would spare me
or my frozen feet would lead
me back to boots & gloves
and jackets.

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