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Temperatures in the fifties sweep through,

disrupting the heated plains of August.

The air changes, sending a message that ripples through the nerves into the mind

Things are changing,

moving forward with the planet,

angling away from the sun.

Sensation makes memories surface,

bubbling up through the layers closed and dried by heat.

Memories of snowflakes and warmth spiraling together,

outside and inside, separated by walls but combined by memory

Comforting fabrics drawn tight, hiding scrawny arms and keeping out the cold.

moving outside, relishing the white silence made by the vortices of winds and falling flakes

It will all be back here soon enough, and gone soon after

but for now the temperatures in the fifties are visiting,

and the memories come rolling in alongside them.