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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