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Jul 2016
for Judy

The crescent moon was bending like a bow.
The sky was painted red, the leafless trees
and evergreens had filled again with snow,
and temperatures had fallen ten degrees.

And then, the mind replays a frequent phrase
β€œThe weather could be better, could be worse.”
You learn to muddle through New England days,
where sometimes time advances in reverse.
Written by
Robert E Moore
316
   CA Guilfoyle
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