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Snowstorm
On the cusp
Of the new moon
In March,
A snow storm arrived
On the first,
With its wind
And its cold
And its ice,
A solid welcome
For a moon in pisces,
As Pasternak’s
Words danced
On the flakes,
I thought
You’re there,
I’m here,
What a waste of a
Wonderful snowstorm.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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