Stella

I watch the snow float down upon the world
Inexorable, unstoppable--but slow--
And joy that I at least am firmly curled
About a mug of tea to watch it so.
Not for me the struggle through the drifts
The eerie skid of tires on the ice
Instead the silent snowfall brightly lifts
My spirits, and I think the vista... nice.
My privilege provides me with that choice
(To glance upon the snow but not go out)
And I must own that it has been abused.
For my appreciation gives no voice
To those by whom it cannot be refused
Who drown in white, and cannot go without.