The winds whistle, whipping themselves across the night
Symbols furiously flutter to the left of my eye
Today, we remembered cold that bit our bones, bending
our backs, shaking our standing figures, coaxing foggy breaths
from our throats
They say that in some parts of this place it will freeze without mercy tonight
A dark night, darker still for stinging our skin in a whistle twenty below
I like the image of symbols fluttering to your left eye, and "they say that..."
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