That fell so lightly last week blew away.
The trash you blew into my small yard, though,
Won't budge now. All of it is here to stay
Until I trudge outside and pry it loose
From plant stalks, branches, fenceposts - these all clutch
At what they've caught, tenaciously. Profuse
Enough, the snow we'll have -- too much,
Some folk will say -- but it at least can hide
The plastic bags and flyers, wrappers, junk
That flies around, breeze-tossed, both far and wide
Until it comes to me. Here comes a hunk
Of Taco Bell refuse right now. Come back,
Dear snow, and cover up the verve I lack.