Found this in my notebook. Written over a year ago, I sort of remember the images that inspired it. The last line just sort of fit the picture in my mind's eye.
But there is more. The "reality" was from the story written and read by a friend. I love the power of language.
.
.
. winter treetops
. point with long fingers
. 'cross the white field
. moonwash
. this lonely night
.
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