Little knowledge, little cleverness, little chance of fixing,
How can I get these things to work?
A pet deer from down the road, survived hunt season, pads quietly alone
Avoids shoveled snow, licks her back, thick-furred, fat, I think of you
And of tamed pets loosed into winter,
Snowfall this season of distress, cold on the land, colder on the heart.
Where the tools to bring me out from this frigid, sere dominion?
Where to go.
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