Now shivering fancy turns
Her weary head to Winter’s forms
Which lurk beneath suspended Suns
A latitude of white grace
To blanket all yesterdays with layers
With the tumult of ice in flight
Dear snow, where is the rainbow’s ray?
That flung colored fluff, I rejoice
In all that nature leaves us as bright
The bitter cold, and her eccentricities
That with a frozen butterfly’s magic
I must depart, Like a smallest housewife
Into the grass, where existence became
Lost in self, with only
Natural powers to mangle me
Or the choice ignorance of my own designs.
Wuji Seshat 