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| Cumberland, MD |
recalcitrant and gray as it goes
over the hill on its wet belly
creeping toward the weakening sanctuary
of the sickened gasping North.
One day we will dream sentimental dreams
of its stark whiteness its ringing crystal purity,
regale the little ones with tales from our youth,
how we built forts of it and giants with magic hats,
but not yet not yet not by a blasted february yet.
