On the first snow of this year,
I walked out into the white.
Privacy I sought.
And the city pressed upon me.
...
On The First Snow Of This Year
On the first snow of this year,
I walked out into the white.
Privacy I sought.
And the city pressed upon me.
Such a place I found,
and through the slush I returned.
Disparity seen.
And between us and them-
the picturesque scape,
and the thunderous storm-
as the trees stumble by.
And the warmth of our institution-
the cold of theirs.