The worst of the snow,
balled together and sticking
to twisted twigs,
gave the illusion of a monster,
a snow monster.
Given life and breath
under icy skies,
it lifted its frozen eyes
to a landscape cruel and seasonal,
a tundra.
Abominable and frosty,
it thought of the eternal winter
as it hoped Spring
would not be sprung upon it.
A tender wish.
Fables would grow mentioning
a creature of delicate habits,
ferocious only when seen.
Teased, it would strike back
and stay alone.
Ann WJ White 