snowflakes
december 8
hardly noticeable and yet they are there
frenzied frozen
tiny whirling
dervishes
alighting on your face
just a speck of wet
a droplet of water on your eyelash
a blurred lens
the smell of snow in the air
the wind is picking up
a nor’easter the weather beings toll
like the bells in buoys
they way they used to toll
softly caroling in the night
but that would come later when we were separated
beyond the arc of time and place
I do not know if you ever sensed the impending storm
or heard the buoys chime
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