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Click hereWe weren't ready to die
but the wind painted
in shades of brown and blew us away,
what was once chattering greenery
swaying to the lilt of his voice.
He's turned his back on old friendships
and blown in with spite
sharp with a bitter frosted tongue
stripping to a sap dried skeleton
any foolish enough to resist.
Poetry Survivor
Poets Choice
Could cover the unusual weather trigger, if you needed one.
I could use an icy wind about now.