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Archive for November 6th, 2014

Hunter of the icy wastes,

In your murderous talons what fate

Has decreed or Nature shaped?

A scythe slicing the gelid blue sky

you appear, silently,- and deadly

Shears of death they are,

But talons of service

Well concealed beneath the white sails,

Grim Reaper of the air you are.

snow owl

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