Here, in the far north
It's time to plan for snow
What ever is left on bare ground
For the season will be froze
The birds of fowl
Within their coops
No longer to be noticed
'Til the nights of long
Have come and gone
On the flip side of the Solis

In a darken state
Of the Poetic mind

Abilities are frozen
To reason and rhyme

Frostbitten thoughts
Creeping sublime

Oh how we'll long
For sweet spring
Sunshine
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