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Yesterday’s snow sits in the corners
Marking shadows,
Knife-edged where the sun’s zenith
Lit the top of the fence

Last week’s snow is gone
Melted beyond even memory

Tomorrow’s snow
is barely a warning frisson,
fleeting, of the need
To be ready, just in case.

Next month’s snow is too vague
Even for Cassandra
Just a shovel in the garage
And a conversation about the weather

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