as saints
perseverant
valiant
beneath your burdens
of snow
bending at the wind's will
and other times
still straight
and inscrutable
as a thought
that never found voice
never saw the light of day
but you
who have seen many days
and much light
many nights stars moons
that shone on ancient deeds
and things
no longer remembered
bore it all
locked it away in rings
that multiplied each year
how many springs
unto old age
long you wait
and persevere
and with what
quick stroke
will you end
in what dim light
be borne
beneath
the very snows
you carried
uncomplaining
in your laden arms
etchings
against a winter sky
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