Snow Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

There it is. Kids,
a white blanket with spots of blood
Crisp as salt on the blade of a stainless-steel knife.
In its purity, fresh as a daisy,
It is lit by the morning sun. It is
melting like honey in a honeycomb,
over a world that's just newly begun.
Kids - till
(In the kneading of a steady grip, you throw it.)
Throw it with venom at the passing cars and the stars.
Knead it, kids - till the evening's dark; you throw it.
…throw it with venom at the priceless window stores
at pretty girls and security guards
And see if it won't stick.
(If it does.) salt. It is salt. Salt on salt.
On beds of near purity with spots of blood.
But be like the psalm of a sunflower standing tall and straight.
Face all your trials and tribulations with faith,
lift your head, and know love is always an open gate.
A snowball at times full in the face.