The first snow always pleads with me,
whispering that I must not miss this. Rose,
silver, & white throb behind my dried eyes.
The concept of the cleanse, the silence,
draws me outside, wrapped,
to be reminded of your power.

Shards of the broken beer bottle
laid glittering green on my street
are hidden underneath your new blanket,
finding it easier now to slice our soles,
or for the unlucky, our skin.

I hear you.
I cannot see you.
I'd forgotten you
until now.