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Henrik Cotran NosediveWatching the forest fill with snow, I hope the north wind will not blow it all down and erase the delicate latticework. Hearing the snow hiss against my body, I wonder, behind these conifers who may lurk? Boughs fly past to the left and to the right, through the flying flakes I focus my sight on the next bend in the undergrowth. Down below the ledges a birch wood unfolds. I must find a route through the rocks yet, perhaps I am being too bold. Snow blinds my descent of one path. I would stay, but for the cold. The softened woods are dark and deep, the trail ahead perilously steep. The sounds of silence fill my ears, saw-dust snow settling light upon sentinel hemlock and blue spruce. I pause to ease my quickened pulse, then flash on heedless of fears, my spirit loose.
[BACK TO TABLE OF CONTENTS, CLASS OF 2008 EDITION]
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