the snow sprinkled on the crispy grass
a facade really
thin
like the space that keeps us
from revealing secret
sin
whiter than this icy trickster
covering over brownish
dinge
bone chilling wind keeps
us from looking
in
under the blanket of this winter
wonderland we laud and
sing
the ugliness of our ‘summer’
romp with that knowing
grin
that one day soon the snow
would fly and cover it
again
our indiscretions and our
reckless, futile
spin
frost has settled in once more
and painted a new face
fin
