22 Sep 2004 @ 01:52, by Craig Lang
A short piece I wrote in my creative writing class. I thought it would be neat to put up here. Kinda in keeping with some of the recent discussions... :-)
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Stinging, I feel a cold wind, and a flake of snow...
Therre is a patch of frozen powder on the sidewalk.
It skitters in the wind. It swirls and is gone.
My ears are raw.
Brrrr, I wish I had put on a hat.
I let the door close behind me. A glass with wire...
To one side is the elementary section.
To the other, the middle school.
A drinking fountain at my knees is turned off for the winter.
No children are here yet - only adults.
The pale light of early morning,
the feeble rays of gray touch the sign
POLLING PLACE
A flag, a ballot and a pen
Right and Left, they meet here.
Then it's over...
I open my car door and get in.
It is warm inside. I continue on towards work.
Like everyone else, I will wait -
await the fate of my world,
on the breath of the November wind.
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