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72 Your Ice Art, Michigan Across the wide snow-primed canvas you paint with vegetable, mineral, water and oil medium, there are skeletal groves of charcoal stick trees, put-to-bed fields and high rise totems which accept salt sacrifice thrown at their feet. Except for blocks of primary color barns, your palette is toned down with frost tempera. When you draw ribbons of skim-milk rivers, you loop and loop them till they connect with Superior’s waters, then burst into true blue in exuberant recognition of source. Admiration for your perfect composition laid down. Bands of roads run straight and across, intersect then part. So effective your ice art that some days I have no need to favor green. Still, I remain, expectant witness to your up-from-tomb spring. ...

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