The deepening cold
stretches its thin fingers
south from the land of fire
past the islands of sheep

Breathing its chill winds
over the ancient rocks
of the heathery isle
a snow flake drifts

More of them follow
swirling calmly
in the lights of the
town and beyond

The lighthouse blinks
but its beam now lost
As the wind slowly rises
a blizzard comes in

Dawn breaks
and the sun rises late
showing a blanket of white
stretching far, far south

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