Early Winter — A Triolet

Winter can’t make up its hoary mind.
It throws its sleet; it tosses its snow.
Why can’t it be a little more kind?

Winter can’t make up its hoary mind.
Can’t it just toss one wintry kind?
Instead, it huffs, sneezes and blows.

Winter can’t make up its hoary mind.
It throws its sleet; it tosses its snow.

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