Winter Day, Frontenac Park
The forest sleeps under
a thick quilt of snow and
shadows stretch long
over the whitened floor
A lone owl a
still sentinel perched
in a tree high above us
keeps silent watch
Our slow march
through the deep snow
is punctuated by the
quiet crunch of footsteps
And then our careful procession
across a frozen lake
where we pause to make
angels in the snow
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