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The winds clear the winter leaves
forgotten in the universe
standing upon dead silent streets
the very last left on earth
And should the sky choose to fall
in a final act of outrage
still we would heed the hint of promise
to keep us locked in our circle
The wheel keeps spinning
until we grow dizzy sick
our fingers aching
from holding too tight
Hold fast or let go
neither shall be right
but only that fidelity
shall bring us through the winter night – Caroline A. Slee