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Bill Keenan

Others may put on coats and hats, but I undress for Winter. When I hear her blustering up over the meadow I shed the last of my golden clothes. Stripped bare, I stretch my knotted fingers skyward and dig my gnarled toes into the moist earth. Yawning at the cold sun in the dusk of the year, I wave my nude branches one last time at the birds passing overhead. I am glad I do not have to leave my winter bed for some warmer spot. 

As the wind passes by and whispers good-bye, I look upward and see the clouds bringing my white downy blanket. Winter dusts my eyes with sleeping powder and I nod off into a dreamless sleep. I do not care if Spring ever comes. I am not setting my alarm. I want this frozen night to last forever.

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