Flakes come to us on wings of thunder,
feathered drops to tickle the face,
pile up like dandruff,
blow about to settle over vacant lots
and vacant eyes that cannot see
the beauty of their wintry voice.
The spark and flash,
the transformer's blast
turn all to darkness.
And still they whiten our world
with rumbles.
Snow rides with feathers
on wings of thunder.
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