An extravagance of snowflakes

Winter doesn’t always bring snow to my neck of the Middle West. Sometimes we get freezing rain, sometimes we get 60-degree days in February, and sometimes we just have long stretches of frigid weather where the ground turns rock-hard and the faces of the limestone bluffs become encrusted with stalactites of ice.  But this season the snow has visited us again – three times before winter even officially started, and twice more since the new year.

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radix

oh papa, the fields are plowed under oh papa, the seeds are all salt oh papa, the tree’s burned to cinders oh papa, we know it’s our fault oh papa, the babies are crying oh papa, the streets run with blood oh papa, look, everyone’s dying oh papa, how can this bring good? oh papa,…

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one more day ’til december

one more day ’til december it’s nearly the last spoke on the wheel of the year out my window i can see the desolation of the garden where limp brown leaves still cling to rusty tomato cages sunday’s snow has all but melted and here and there the grass is defiantly green, but it knows…

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