falling and flailing
bright flakes of ice-light
sabre the air.
the wind-whip
whistles
in leaf-lorn twigs.
beasts flee,
slink or scamper,
seeking any hovel or hole.
side-slanting downstreams as the wind shifts;
upgusting snowblows
from the snow-drifts.
the slate-gray day
darkens with descent of dusk;
all bleaches to a blur --
blate white, bleak black.
[Note: To appreciate the structure of this poem,
you need to know that it is stress-timed,
not syllable-timed --
in accordance with the tastes
of our Saxon ancestors. ]
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