Pristine innocence falls the snow
Blanketing beauty grows
Soft purity inviting play
Blowing growing on in depth
Circling sun soon becomes foe
Cracks and leaves and sticks do show
Beauty marred with grime of time
Slipping past the blemishing toil
With skyward reach day and dirt diminish
Till I am gone.
-Dwain Cassady
4/19/21