When a familiar landscape becomes a foreign field
Populated with overlarge, cold, white hominoids
Of terrifying proportions; when missiles
Equally white, fly through the air – war of the juveniles
Descending slopes on their terrible toboggans
Squealing war cries of joy, fear and warning;
Alien world of crusty icing sugaredness
Powdery beneath the paws and scents and trails
Vanished beneath a cloak of icy invisibility.
Beautiful covering coming silently from the sky
Like white stars and hexagonal doilies.
Lickable and likeable in tongue meltingness.
Words and photo copyright to Englepip©