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Howling Winds

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Even though the window is closed, I can still
hear the howling wind as it
gusts through the bare trees. Snow is falling behind those
thick paisley curtains. I can see the thick flakes drizzling
over the roads, as if being poured from
the hands of the clouds.
The air is warm inside; the heater
crackles. But aching for the refreshing bite of winter, I
long to open the blinds.
Tearing them open, I see a
blank blue sky, hallowed trees that stand
The roads still sparkle a dark gray.
The wind continues to roar;
it seems to have blown even
the snow

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