seasonal poetry
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To Walk Upon Snow

Plowing the streets was necessary,But it leaves me, though safer, sad.In that unblemished blanket from heaven’s stores,I saw for the first time, at last,The gleaming, blinding sparkling oresOf streets made from pure, white gold. I am too heavy to walk this new roadAnd so I dig out the cheap, sturdy, dirty oldPavement that is suited Continue reading
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