melodies #2
Looking from the back seat, word beaten, road signs with a
warning pattern appear...giant snow flakes in a red triangle.
Heading out of the city snow covers the ground. Headlights seeme
brighter in this sharp light.
By now the city is swallowed whole in a halo of white, all traffic
stopped. The tired ache of branches, breaking from crippled
trees, and an echo of a siren breaks the stillness. We wait,
watch as the trees topple, turning to splinters, then point
first in the ground...
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