Michigan Winter
JOANNE GRAM
Stepped into a park covered in brown leaves
awash in a fine flurry of white snow
heard the crunch of my steps and saw
myself as the spoon stirring a bowl of cornflakes
destined to go soggy but nonetheless sweet
to the end
Stepped into a park covered in brown leaves
awash in a fine flurry of white snow
heard the crunch of my steps and saw
myself as the spoon stirring a bowl of cornflakes
destined to go soggy but nonetheless sweet
to the end