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  • Diana Joy

Freeze, Flood, Fire, Fall

I love the snow

lakes and rivers in their solid form

five months of pure white quiet

eventually retreats

into melt and mud

washouts and sandbags

water in all the wrong places

but soon enough

it all dries up

and dries and dries and burns

smoke and evacuation alerts

jagged nerves pray for

any kind of rain

until one day it falls

in soothing sprinkles

along with the pine needles

soft days and crisp nights

hold gentle anticipation

of the first snow

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