Snow Burial

In honor of World Poetry Day 2018.

It's the second day of Spring, 
and I find myself buried in snow.
White as snow, they say.
Spring is a time for renewal.

Yesterday was dark like coffee beans.
I could've used some caffeine.
The sky wanted to shed some light on the ground,
and give my seed a chance to grow.

The passing storm blocked my chance for survival.
I heard there is a chance of mighty winds, late tonight.
The flakes of sanctification will no longer fall.
Only after they erase most of my prosperity.

The sun is expected to blaze tomorrow.
Water will run down to my root.
The earth is good about renewing itself.
It discards those unable to change so easily.

That's why the happiness of today,
the closing of institutions,
and warming of chocolate on the stove,
makes me wonder if sorrow will stay away.





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