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From the top of a spire’s tower
A ringing’s heard—once. Again.
In the chasms of night and land of snow
A little village sunken low.
Overnight, human isles of rest
Warmed by the straw.
Close with…
Tirzeh rose early the following morning, cooked some schav, beat in several eggs, boiled a pot of potatoes, and put the food on the table to cool. As soon as she sat down, she remembered…