A longer version of the small stone poem originally posted on 9th January.
I quite liked the original of this but I also like this slightly longer version.
When the snow was here I walked this way,
followed the winding path across these fields,
felt the chill of the air on my hands and face,
and thought how beautiful it was.
But the snow had covered the fields like powder on a face,
hidden the traces of all that was unsightly,
and, now that it has melted and been absorbed,
the fields are once more pox-scarred with litter.