Souls filled with mountains
snow dripping between your eyes,
unique geometry of your face, melting at the sun's paschal song
Circumstances giving weight
between our flesh and each pine tree
the smells of open air, swishing past our legs,
illusionary pasts rising in a country's border
that does not exist
and home creates its definition
between the dimples of each peak
and the delicate ears of the woods.
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