In the distance far behind me
A tree stands faintly showing
Wrapped within a cape of white
Amid the sharp winds blowing

My umbrella yields no shelter
As I brace against the storm
Snowflakes gather round me
Like bees about to swarm

And still I wander on the dunes
Drifting high above the ground
And lose myself in howling winds
That nary make a sound

 

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