Raking Away the Good

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Mums of modesty.

A final indication.

Soon the rays of sun will behold, a different story.

As if,

sandals in the snow could not wait…

One more month.

Aghast,

are the scores of chores.

Chipping away at an already abolished wood.

Discarded, organic matter.

Never raked away,

for good.

Dear Mums,

above or below,

ground.

Your appearance is a mere hesitation.

A mere, resignation.

An artistic rendition of snow’s copulation.