The ice glistens,
The fire crackles,
The joints creak,
The tea steams,
The soup boils,
The mind turns inward.
The winter approaches.
A Poem
The ice glistens,
The fire crackles,
The joints creak,
The tea steams,
The soup boils,
The mind turns inward.
The winter approaches.
Anonymous Appalachian Agrarian 
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Beautiful
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