-To watch powder cling to sill and muntin through the frosted panes,
but not be chilled by that crisp whiteness
-To slacken on the back of spastic release – lulled by discordant heartbeats,
while feeling that they — and all — are in perfect accord
-To drift into slumber with no urgency and to awaken noncommittally,
sinking ever deeper into mattress and mind
-To love the snow for its beauty
as much as for its lack of reach
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