Snowman

What else can I say? This is Landar in the coldest winter for 30 years. You’re reading lightonthepage. Where else to start except with the following:

 

 

The snowman rises as he always will

before dawn and stares at his maker

at the moment of waking. But so pure is he

the maker becomes the made and tries so hard

to remember where he left the melting image

which is always the shaper of his being.

 

 

Best wishes, today,

Landar

 

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