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Maria Mitea Dec 2022
it is snowing

slow
monotonous snow
with the patience of a lazy bear
it falls
across the church (now, an antique shop)
on the left, the abandoned house, tonight, wishes
may she also be seen by the stones, like a miner
has a light on its forehead,
in front of our house, the bulb lights burn  and
are in competition with the farm on the hill,
the snow settles comfortably on every single  tree,
I wonder,  scientifically, how much snow can a tree hold,
but some twigs?
I pray for the snow  to keep falling,
the roofs, you  would say, are kufi hats thrown from the sky,
we don't know when it will snow again,
the world is gossiping: global warming, the earth is heating up,
I think it's the other way around, the sky warmed up again
and the earth is cold
cold,
as if embalmed to stop its decomposition

*

the sky, as usual
sacrifices itself

it is snowing  white-gray

snowing

— The End —