The streets are heaped with grey snow
Some days ago
It settled in a shower of innocent smiles
And childhood passtimes
Delicate, joyful and soft.
That snow is lost.
A few walk the rocks
Swaddled in slow nervousness,
Beneath the Gull's screech,
Life is on hold
In brown scaffolds
And frozen ground.
Months ago
When the flames came to the trees
And nights turned from steam to wind
I watched the geese circle
A flotilla of foghorns
Bellow beating the air
Tugging to adventure
Far, more bracing climes.
Face upturned and feet earthbound
I watched them flock and go
And as the grey sets in the snow
I would that I had followed.
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