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Nov 2013
Short green-brown grass with frosted tips,
empty branches move as the wind whips,
and teases the streets with what real cold is,
as buses, cars, kick leaves and add to the breezes,
                                                some guy sneeezes,
so loud,
             and there is wonder, if it is thunder or,
was it God?
Ottar
Written by
Ottar  where you will find me
(where you will find me)   
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