I looked upon a night sky clear

with perhaps a slight obsessive fear:

that snow would not come, nor icy roads

even as such winter blows

about us and yet far away

in Michigan, or some other place.


Then terror allayed, and fear dispersed,

I watched tiny flakes on cracked skin burst

and melt away

in tandem with the joyous bray

of a billion children before my day

 and me.


Helter skelter comes the seller, the man, and boy

all gaze off 

into the cosmos

the stars burn cold today-

or so it seems, I say

The End

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