|In winter it comes.|
sunlight in the open leas.Soft winds blow and rustle the leaves.At first you hear its rushing voice,ever more closer its silencing force.The forest breaks and opens to the river.Where snow and ice melt and water rises.
The melting voice through mazes running carves its way through the land.Everything in its path is washed away.Water is the lifeblood that everything depends.From shallow streams to murky ponds.Creatures
lurk in the depths and beyond.Strong and true is the waters path and never will it be tamed at last.
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