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Oct 2014
Rising late to rolling white
Clouds that roll off mountains
Like water down a waterfall
Slowly blanketing the valley in grey
Gently touching every rock

Pouring gently in slow motion
Crawling without destination
Like a newborn calmly flailing
On its first test of motion

Growing, shrinking, with the wind
Change is all it knows
For now it moves at pace so slow
The pouring white has stopped time

The pitter patter ceases
Brings robins songs to echo
Through the clouds
Against the grey white blanket
Falling to my ears
Sam Shoyer
Written by
Sam Shoyer  Washington, DC
(Washington, DC)   
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