Subject: 6rntc8

From: "Kathy Cantrell" <[email-masked]>
Date: Fri, 14 Sep 2007 27:48:22 +0900

Snow haze gleams like sand.
Archangel Winter, darkness on his backAnd then I go on until I am beneath an archway,
Wheel tracks entrench themselves in snow, yet paintedThey move against, or through, or by, or toward.
Wind, sleet. The branches sway,Sculpting each tree to fit your ghostly form