The dog and I tend towards long walks and we see a lot of ice in transition. We weren’t sure if the lake was becoming the sky or the reverse. Cold. Pretty. Cracked.
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Light bends. Smoke swirls. My dog is bewildered by the visions twisting before us. We plod on down the street, dodging wisps, our claws clicking on the pavement.
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It’s cold enough tonight that my dog shards as we walk. Towards the end of the stroll we smear out on the stoop. My neighbor watches, amazed.
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