I walked
slow down the streets
in leisure
the snow ground under my feet
pleasure
light as feathers
seepingly cold
deepeningly wetter.

Bold
I entered the park
my feet imprinting the mark
of soulless Nike soles
upon the white cover
of my lover,
Snow.

Wind blow
snow fall
I am centered of
and under it all
I am swooped.

Trees are for loving
leaves are for living
the leaves have descended
down to the dirt
all is covered by snow
and I wonder if it hurts
when I smother the snow?

Benches are for sitting
I prefer to stand
and play connect the dots
in between shining
lamp posts.

I walk forth
rigidly entranced into the light
increasingly bright
more and more is my sight.

As I tramp through the snow,
I chant
in a low hum
that resonates in me
but barely permeates me,
“Where is the snow the purest?”

I search for the purest snow
hoping to lure it into trusting
that I am able to bring myself over it
cover it lusting and busting
adulterating
deflowering
I will feel power
I will feel ecstasy
upon that fateful hour
I shall dance among the trees
and fly away into the snowy breeze.

I come upon a spot,
under the light of a lamp post
shined upon
but not having been stepped upon
illuminated
enlightened
The Purest
most virginal snow
that I will ever know

I rise
and I stomp!