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In the green north woods of the Yukon,

All night there was snow falling on cedars
The wind whistled through the branches,
From the melting snow, water poured by liters
And the woods came alive with the living,
In moonlight ghostly shadows were on the move
To a passerby silence was definitely deafening,
As a chipmunk under the snow makes its grove
All in the winter wonderland way up north,
Trout are not measured by yards, but meters
And in a brown bears den you hear snoring,
As there is a snow falling on cedars

by Tim Thayer