SEPTEMBER SNOW

 

 

 

 

I noticed it was snowing, dirty snow,
big, fat flakes drifting slowly down.
I was not surprised, although it wasn’t cold—
such strange things have been known 
to happen.  Now I was dreaming, 
I was dancing in the snow, head thrown 
back, arms out, hands open 
to catch the flakes that floated down,
warm and soft on my fingers
like soft, greasy ashes.  And now 
we were running and screaming. . . .

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