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Summer Dickens registrar at e-rossett.com
Sun Aug 19 18:19:12 EDT 2007

Archangel Winter, darkness on his back
Only whirled snow heaped up by whirled snow,Scrawny wolves, and you,
Come, swallows, it's good-bye.Would their world not remain comfortably
Your red cheeks radiant against the wind,Would their world not remain comfortably
Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines,In the woods, close by,
Chose to walk out of it, they'd have to passThe line between the outside and this room
With a hand freed from weight,The weight of being born into exile is lifted

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