(x = space)
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Snow Overnight
(the forecast)
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Snow in the dark
Except where under
Artificial lights,
Maybe like renegades
Outside the windows
Of our homes
Or business locales
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Over the runway
Through trees
Sleeping gardens
Flying around steeples
It’s there
It might go well
To turn off the lights
Go outside
I have to recommend
In numbers
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But let them strike our flesh
Faces,
Wrists between our gloves
And sleeves
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Small hits, the kind that
Most of us can take
With the cold
In thirties Fahrenheit,
Knowing that heat awaits
Inside
After the dance
Or anything to learn
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C L Couch
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Photo by Robert Katzki on Unsplash
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