We look in anger at dirty snow pushed
Violently aside in piles on our curbs.
It was in the way, as all things are;
We needed a path to go where we go.
Flecking crystals that once
Were falling soft and free,
Black lung cough explodes from car exhausts.
A splash of color, a yellow blotch of urine
Is sorely unappreciated.
The snow is a victim
But something has to bear the blame.
© Sweepy Jean and Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World, 2010.