is a stranger tapping on my roof
like a dream of spring
only colder.
The snow that should have whispered
and soothed the earth with her quiet voice
went strolling with a lover
somewhere north of here.
I miss her reflection in the mirror
and the geometric glory
that once embraced our backyard
from November until April.
The warmth of the ways we have stolen power
from the depths of this planet in pursuit of a devil's dream
have me unable to speak
I am so ashamed of what comfort we have lost
and what my children will never know
of the ease we have given away
to fools who would not bend
to marvel at the inconvenience
of another winter storm.
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