In His Reflection by the Creek

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Snow and ice crunching under his boots, and a strange gray reflection

rippling across the creek, with deer tracks on the other side.

He paused, zipping up his coat a little further,

watching the trees bend.

He remembered traveling through time

hunting for visions with bows

wearing buckskin

and an occasional feather,

but it was long ago

on horseback,

so instead, in his reflection

by the creek,

he took some pictures.

     

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