Quebec Glâce
I am from icy branches
Boughs of glasswork that
Play with the light
Cars hidden under the snow
Bikes frozen in time
The moon glares down, and
We gingerly amble
Up the slippery steps
Boots by the door
Coats on the couch
Gloves galore
And puddles on the floor
Mon pays, c’est l’hiver.
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Taken on December 10, 2008