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The battle of the ruffles

Snowflakes fall,
snowdrifts rise,
Lightness or pall,
accents the skies.

Traffic goes by,
Broad clear streets,
banks piled high,
like ruffles and pleats.

Shovels scuffle,
blowers send clouds,
reducing the ruffle,
enabling crowds.

by one or two,
to negotiate
the open way through,
and for the light wait.

Through mini canyons,
from sidewalk to street,
joining companions,
to bus or car meet.

Sweating and muscles
give evidence,
breakthrough of the ruffle
that obstructing fence.

Sit back and take rest;
the block neat and clean.
Snow falling, Oh no!
The snowplow again.

Snowflakes fall;
snowdrifts rise.
snow plowed up tall;
see that ruffle rise.

Like fanciful laces,
all rippled and bowed,
the ruffle now graces
the edge of the road

01/30/2011 Carol Morfitt
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