Beauty and Mystery in Druid Hill Park

White Winter Shawl

After a cover of snow fell overnight, I walked on Druid Hill early to begin the new year of 1989 afresh. There were no other footprints, no sounds, no stir, no wind under the oatmeal sky and the half-light.  I was sleepwalking in a peaceful, manicured wilderness, yards and a world from the rambunctious, soiled city.

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