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Organicicles

Gray clouds on the ground
Mushy, Slushy
Dripping off your feet
Tainted snow
Contrasting untouched
Pure white
Trees bare, outstretched hands of the sleeping earth
Cluthing the sky like an infant
Unconcious in pulsing grasps
Reaching for the chimneys
Rough
Strong brick
Musing at the icicles
Chuckling Smoke
They warm the houses
Stomachs digesting the heat
Furnace, his heart




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