Away from its birth nest for the very first time, With translucent tail held high in the balance position, Young Squivino carefully walks along a branch, Awake in the world For the very first time.
Snowfalls mix together in my mind, Fall after fall. Moist, perfect for snowballs. Powder, perfect for skiing. Inch-wide flakes, Perfect for a cold screen door. Milk bottles on the front porch, freezing cream on top, pushing up the paper lids. No homoginizing then. I know the myth about no two falling flakes alike, Yet I wouldn't place my wager on it.
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