LEAVES OF A DIARY 31
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Snowflakes pounced at the car windows,
Smashed against frozen pane
To crumble on the road and then to stand again.
Gathering their cursing in hurried counsel,
With its breast white and withered by high winds.
The highway, unleashed, raced
Towards a certain place unseen in the distance,
Like the frog who preordained dashes
Toward the open mouth of a snake, and jumps.
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