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I Used To Be Fluid

Jennifer Bonner
Boothbay, Maine

At first the snow came in with a fine spit, apparently from the northwest.
In fact, the storm moved in from the south.
That first wet air hit the clearing and swirled around the house.

Now it is coming down in a more orderly fashion:
majestic, regimental, steady and almost straight down.
The flakes are heavier, bigger – formed now,
resigned to their afternoon march,
no longer screaming like those front-line crystals: Wait!
I don’t want to be frozen.

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