by Erik Estabrook
The sky is churning, rumbling today
though I can’t understand what its trying to say
blue sky to my eye is now pale grey
the first dusting of snow
like delicate powdered sugar
drifts its way to land on fresh faces
the snow floats to my window
like little white pixies
climbing on the wind
I haven’t forgotten how surprises come,
so much after times where none came to appear
and I cherish every blessing far and near.
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