The sky is falling - white on white on white.
The horses leave tracks in the fresh fallen sky,
The cats sit in the tack room window, distaining to hunt
The chickens peek out the door and elect to remain in.
But I am the one who slogs the snow -
checking water and feed.
But the fire awaits, with it's warm hearth.
The croft is peaceful
while the sky falls.
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A Very Old Memory
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