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Rapacious Seasoning!
The squeamish may leave, if they are able
For the northern wind has thrust deeply down,
Its cold fingers chilling all it touches
In a delerium of icy hate.
Hopeful young Spring had no strong defences.
Her virginal remnants lie strewn around-
So innocent, so guileless- now lifeless.
Is this mid May? More aptly mid Winter!
Seasoning has been applied greedily
And it leaves a bad libidinous taste
