Saturday, January 20, 2007


The sentinel clouds lumber in,
ominous, grey titans, they roll
untill they encompass us completely.
From all sides, the begin their
gentle barrage, an assualt of soft,
feathery flakes. They descend
with a kiss, not of affection
but of frigid death. The miniscule
wraiths fall from their mother clouds,
strangling out all sound leaving us
stranded, alone in an etherial world,
Nature instilling an unnatural silence.
A soundless scream of nothingness
thunders as crystalline invaders
freefall down, attack, and swallow
the ground, burying the world
beneath a soft, frozen, white
blanket of death. They sedate life,
sending creatures and perennial
plants into a coma of survival for
the duration of the Lord Winter's

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