Metamorphosis

Snippets of lace sift from the sky,
Settling silently into woolly stillness
Flawed only by the footsteps of the brave.

Sparkling suds covers the ground:
Like a dish washing accident going awry,
Squishing and sloshing and turning to mud.

Streams and rivers coursing down hill,
Changing white to transparent like magical bleach,
Freezing at night into slick icy slides.

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