Snowfall of My Mind

the sun has been sent into early hiding
the biting wind has molded my back into a perfect ess
aching for summers evenings
I slink inside for relief
    refusing to be trapped in these four walls
fallen oaks begin to smoke and crackle
aged mash caresses my tongue
easing my a tangled posture
creating a delicate snowfall of my mind
releasing words onto the page

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