Late Snows

Robbed of icy strength,
Betrayed by warmth hid
Deep in April’s wind,
These last flurries come

Weeping, fluttering,
Tumbling, they tug at
The sky in clusters
And swirls. Then yearning

To fly, they fall, and
Rush away in shimmering
Streamlets to
Awaken in cold

Earth the hope of spring.

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