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The stormclouds came early on that cold day
Snow swirling down onto the frozen ground
Hiding the grass and the rooftops away
And muffling the gulls on the heaving sound.

I walked on a seashore of virgin white
Whispering snow-petals blinding my sight
An unholy world was cold-forged anew
While wicked winds roamed the foamy brine brew.

Robert G. Brown 2009-08-31