There,
on the back lawn –
once pure powder,
now crusty and gray,
a lone holdout
from a forgotten season.
I know, I know,
I say
as molecules disperse
one by one
into the wind,
into the fickle earth.
There,
on the back lawn –
once pure powder,
now crusty and gray,
a lone holdout
from a forgotten season.
I know, I know,
I say
as molecules disperse
one by one
into the wind,
into the fickle earth.