Stepping from the bus at the crossroads,
white waste spreading to the rising hills
at each cardinal direction, but above
the cauldron of snow sky more blue
than cloud-white even at the waning
of the light. Each step taken under
this unshackled sky quicker and longer
than under overcast ones, those pressing
you to the ground you try to flee
to be a being of light and air.
12.03.2025
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