suddenly fog came down
a white wall before me
i run fast to shelter
a big boulder leaning
to a fallen old tree
i can hear whistling
crispy leaves of pines
howling dog up a hill
i am not alone i know
heavy drumbeat by falls
sharp breaking sticks
getting closer; footsteps
wild horses coming downhill
must be dozen of them beauty
i sit there in awe watching
as sun touch my back; clear
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