Ruminations on a Cold Winter's Night.....
The wind is whistling, whipping through the forsaken naked trees and as they do their frigid dance, the trees a' moaning. The ice encapsulated trunks are crackling like cat-o-nine-
tail whips and the ice laden branches let go of their encrustations, sounding like a million shattered shards of candy glass stabbing the frozen mantle below. Tis the dead of winter, no smell of spring in dreams tonight.
~MCM 2014
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