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Dunedin in May

Snow comes early,  unexpected
The children race for tin lids
I,  for coats and gloves
Too late
Like Pied Piper,  the call
will wait for none
Squealing,  stumbling,  tumbling,
they crash through door and gate
The wonder hits them then
and for a flash
nature overwhelms
The pristine white
The stillness of cars halted
Then,  bottoms on lids
they catapult down,  screaming
They are away some time
Exhausted,  frozen,  sodden bodies fall inside
'We've been to the Antarctic'  they gasp

Marion Kitchingman




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