Ela vem toda de branco, molhada, linda e despenteada. Mas eu preferia o sol... Deu preguiça de sair.

Blizzard

Snow falls:
years of anger following
hours that float idly down -
the blizzard
drifts its weight
deeper and deeper for three days
or sixty years, eh? Then
the sun! a clutter of
yellow and blue flakes -
Hairy looking trees stand out
in long alleys
over a wild solitude.
The man turns and there -
his solitary track stretched out
upon the world.

(W.C.W.)