Light that leads me through the blizzard,
white in flakes, such snuggled blankets.
Tangy sugar never withers,
though this season never bakes it,
only baked so long ago,
you remind me o’ soft bread,
warm tan crescents made o’ snow.
Noses itch in strong, fresh scents.
Red lights warn you: stop & breathe,
drown the death in breakfast tea,
touch the crystals on the leaves.
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