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   NEWS


   Long winter days
   When the temperature
   Hovers around ten below,
   I think of the vitality
   Of fresh shoots deep in the earth,
   Deep within the flesh of a tree,
   Eyes open, awaiting the spring.
   Washing with cold water
   Suddenly
   I think of my dead mother.
   She always washed
   With cold water,
   Flushing out the long winter,

   With white clothes,
   White hands,
   White love.
  

    
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