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Feb 2010
Long sitting in fields of brilliant white.
Standing tall in pillars of clear crystal water.
Like razors and pain in the eternal wind.
Skies forever shrouded with a hood of gray.

Winter.

Darkness long after the dawn, short days.
Bitter cold morning walks, wind howling.
Dazzling sunshine in the afternoon, freezing cold.
Darkness descends like a sheet, so early.

Winter.
James Nealon
Written by
James Nealon  Western New York
(Western New York)   
679
     D Conors
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