I stood at the top

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I stood at the top

of the snowy hill

its curves a sheet

of soft white

seamless perfection


as the hill transcends

to the town below

a scene of chaos

breaks out

horns blare

as angry drives

slam on their breaks

men throw their words

at each other

the volume of their words

rising in harsh tones


my hill is my sanctuary

a place of observance

where I sit

and ponder

the life about me