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All that's set to fall has by now
fallen;
Nothing's left to shield us from
winter, Which always attacks from
the
air Screaming into the huddled
center Of gatherings at the courthouse
square, Strangers, friends,
odd pairings
scatter, Bent toward a biting wind,
clutching collars; It's the
wrong time for fat,
pregnant bellies.
We sense the drawing up of the
earth; Pores close, vessels constrict,
movement slows, Outlooks narrow and the light
is shuttered. A solid freeze troubles known
pathways, They're muddy and rough,
beauty lies cursed, No improvements made by a
skiff of snow, For ugly scorns optimism and
charm; It's a terrible time for giving
birth.
The world grows meaner with
the cold;
Hospitality shrinks, people plot,
The arrogant thrive, the humble
do not. As ice invades from the river
bank in, So too crystalizes the human
heart Until hardened against all hope,
all trust; Maybe now's the only time for
New Life, Squalling with love, to be born
among us.
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