I wonder how,
the white winter falls,
how it wipes away the dull form,
of the barren landscape.
How can we call it innocence?
Why is the innocence white?
And we feel the dirt to be brown?
The white comes falling down,
burying the brown dullness into white drifts.
Cleansing the earth of evil.
How evil innocence is.
Poem written by Jeremy C Kester
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This poem is also a featured poem in Change of Seasons: Selected Poems.