This East, this coastal mid-
Atlantic, is dizzily packed,
by drifts of blizzarded snow,
whispy enough for my English
Cocker Spaniel to bound about
in, or deep enough to imperil
him with drowning. But we two
go out together, feeling every
weather; and the local rancher,
knowing this, came by to scoop
us out a playing field, though
there is no question of motor-
ing. Where do we need to go,
when we waken to our morning?
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