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Snow covered world, the print of man’s boot lives
just for a minute… Winter is not done.

Steam whistle memories
swirl in breath clouds… trains in the night,
……………………………………….shift changes.

The mills, now closed,
have no need for signals that say go home.
……………………………….Everyone has gone.

The train rails are rusted and uprooted.
Ballast and blanket and the subsoil beneath them
bed forever in stone
…………………………the tracks of something extinct.

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