does this describe the blustery night well?
The westward sun lay down to sleep,
Through the branches the rich orange shine seeps,
The fire-breathing dragon yet keeps them alight,
But only with war, in the midst of night.
They battle through the frigid licks of the air,
“28 DEGREES!†Victor declares
The ice covered Cleopatras glisten in the sky
Still, the Lake Windsor Downers don’t heed their cry.
The foul stench of burnt rubber is horrid enough,
But the harsh gusts of wind make the night plenty rough,
The work is mind wrenching but they must not rest,
No one shall surrender, in this life-trying quest.
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