To a shoreline of black snow,
I cursed the sky and wept while my ears hurried and sighed.
I then feared drowning more than cars.
I slid along the asphalt road,
Like a sound innocuous and cold.
I returned a donee of grace divine,
Resting on a love that held in the cry:
O God! Condescend to calm the heart and mind of Your child so resigned!
He answered in a calm: what, My son, is time?
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