Wind whipped, winter arrives
upon the heavy feet of a woolly mammoth,
as it lumbers across the Southern Tier
with the vindictive bitterness you reserve
for an embattled foe. A blizzard, angry,
thrown upon the shore of this frigid lady.
Cold and unfeeling, she offers up
 what moisture she can in sacrifice,
fueling the random machine and wreaking havoc
on the unsuspecting throng. It won’t be long
before the accumulation reaches a level
quite unsavory. And the driving breath
which gathers its strength from her
reflects her ire and determination,
and the relentless volley of a lake scorned,
Hell’s fury unleashed, with a satisfying passion.



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