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,

where do they come from
where do they go
they unleave footprints
in the snow
they leave an axe
as so adorned
traces of a
creature torn
the lodge
it quivers
its candles blackened
darkened walls
by cords now slackened
the hunting party
here made to slumber
tis the season to
add in number
in swings, in chops
a kind of lumber
leave the forest
thinner, somber

-m.p. 05/24/2017

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