Not so white banks of snow.
On melting banks, sits several large black crows.
Their interest, underneath the snow.
The Dod finds smells lost till spring.
I walk what a magic day.
A blink in time, a cycle older than the Milky Way.
Walk and sense today when finished can't be retrieved in any way.
Old picture found, now I understand.
Time is now, to be a part of [do]. Don't think, while you're still around.
(march 23/2007)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem