these clouds rob the world of brightness
color never matches the brilliant screen
I'd rather look at pictures than the thing
itself a ghost of what I used to try to see
the woods accepted me kept their secret
an animal doesn't need to understand I
was one of them practically the only one
cold winters make it hard to live there
I need my house its furnace warmth
dry bedding a roof doesn't blow away
my nature to withdraw behind walls
when the rain cold wild winds blow
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