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Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.
More in Winter Sanctuary Winter Sanctuary
The night that I was thinking of when I wrote this poem, it seemed to me as though the snowflakes weren't quite falling straight down, or drifting or spiraling or floating...they seemed to be nudged side to side as they descended, rather like the hand of God was directing the placement of the snowflakes. I suppose that is why I used the word sway.
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