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Wintering
Finally, the winter is willing to chill us.
The heavy quilt uncasketed from the cedar chest.
Its weight presses us all night
Like leaves in a summer camp scrapbook.
It is the season to be cradled by older arms
And dream of the giant redwoods upstate,
a history of heavy thread and stitches
Thimbled through the batting.
Everything made of older things.