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Published by jack elliot





The mantle of white that has covered us has turned into a pall.












Early one morning I awoke at four o'clock, peered out my window, and saw... nothing.








A total white-out, with the wind gusting and complaining louder than the feral cats ever could.





The street lights were barely visible, like little disembodied orbs floating behind a shroud of cotton.







I have not heard the cats since then.








This was written by   Katzenperson  in  NEW YORK STATE






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