White Squall

Creaking, moaning ice laden branches lower their arms against the weight. Whistling, screeching winds hurl wet snow against the empty buildings that appear as stuccoed in white, no doors or windows apparent. Stars do not present themselves, obliterated by swirling snow, street lights barely visible. Hunched into the wind, pushing into it, one forced step forward and three steps back struggling to retain balance. The frigid wind attempting to steal my labored breath, a thief, it brazenly rushes up under my coat and down my collar stealing my bodies warmth. My car, already forgotten, sitting diagonally in a snowbank, somewhere just feet behind me and still a mile to go. – See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11759132-White-Squall-by-VictoriaFeathers#sthash.TdaZNdaE.dpuffrost pixlr

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