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Early snowfields: canyon and lake

caught there overnight we walked to the viewpoint outcropped over water turned ink - deep against white and silence stretching toward winter's great plain opened to movement we found none but our breath and stood pinioned blankness crushed at horizon like the shock of all sound suddenly gone as we turned back a high glide of motion the faint creak of our footfall overhead a hawk making no cry

(c) Copyright 2000. The Christian Science Publishing Society

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