Tim Good

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Yes, one must embrace the darkness with the light to get all of Frost’s gift. For it seems he could not hear the trill of the trees without the cry of the root, or see the golden leaves but with the sign of their death nearby, or witness easy wind and downy flake apart from the huge, cold, indifferent gears of nature spewing them out.
Winter Hours: Prose, Prose Poems, and Poems
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