May 14, 2010
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suffocating me
in its cold,
hungry, unrelenting

My hair slaps
my face. My
goosebumps spread.

Wind chimes
playing their
song. It's conductor
quickening the tempo.

I do not stand up.
But continue to lay
in the thereputic grass.

Althought I freeze.
Although my nose is red.
This wind is my cure.

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