We are not snow people.
This is not a winter place.
The dog is confused
by the crusty icing of snow
all around. There’s no grass
in sight for him to go
and he doesn’t know
where to make a deposit,
so we crunch and slide
our way over pristine paths
looking for just the right place
to go when there is no
right place to go. We are
enthralled with the marzipan
beauty rolling out before us,
our world at last unspoiled,
and recoil from the need
to leave another stain.
