by Caroline Falzone
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It was winter in Vermont. White trees glittered,
everything perfect as a snowglobe, calmed,
on the mantel. My mother had recently lost
her mother. That was the excuse that time.
It was winter in Vermont. White trees glittered,
everything perfect as a snowglobe, calmed,
on the mantel. My mother had recently lost
her mother. That was the excuse that time.