Barbara Maxwell Deraoui

October 30, 1953- Wisconsin
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Dark Cold Night

Imagine walking through the fresh fallen snow into a forest full of tall pine trees

As you stop amongst the trees, all you can hear is the silence
and the crunch of your boots as you walk

A slight cool breeze rustles through the trees moving the limbs as the branches sway
back and forth to the rhythm of the breezes

Snow left on the branches gently falls down ever so slowly, as small flakes hitting the ground

As they hit your coat and face, they sit for just a moment before melting away leaving a slight dampness

An owl sits up high on one of the branches looking down at you and the world all around

The sky is clear, and there is a glimmer of the moon lighting the path ahead surrounded by stars

And, at the end of the path, is a log cabin with a light on in the window and a fire burning
in the fireplace, waiting quietly for its owner to return
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