The winter night comes; a cold, wet, towel across our eyes. T h e edges will be lifted in the morning; us to see - but not so soon I fear. Snow covers mistakes, smoothes differences, And treats everything with disrespect. It comes from behind to hide my small, deliberate movements,
Sketch: Vol. 35
, Article 19.
Available at: http://lib.dr.iastate.edu/sketch/vol35/iss2/19