The Snow is Unkind

Isaac Moon ’27

16 December 2025

The Snow is unkind to the things she touches: 
The grass beneath her dies, 
and as we step and hear her crunch we
reaffirm her lies.
 
The Snow melts and what is left
is the carcass of grass.
And still we call the snow that falls
a Beauty we would hate to pass.
 
The Snow is unkind to the things she touches:
Ducks are trapped in an icy cage.
That once was free is bound to be
left freezing in her Rage.
 
I imagine,
 
The Snow is kind to the things she touches,
and we see her residue.
She leaves behind forgotten blue skies
and creates a white world anew-
 
And still,
 
She leaves her icy remains such as
the Death she brings, the Requiem she sings
because
The Snow is unkind to things she touches-