Pink sky in morning
Warning me
Of the oncoming storm
My hatches are battened,
All but one
Waiting for him to come home
All lies still
On our quiet hillside
And still I listen with all my will
For the howling banshees I know
Of wind and spirit that go fleeing
Before the tsunami of snow
Soon to curl up under its robe of white,
To sleep in the spotless night:
A promise fulfilled in plain sight.
viewingcamelot 
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