Snow
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www.ronnowpoetry.com
A year
in which
each day
brings one
tenth inch.
First the
window sills
are covered
then door
jambs. Our
lips are
sealed then
our eyes
shut. Sleep
like this
we've never
known. Will
Spring return?
Unknown. We
care not.
Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2015
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