Not rotted or frozen, but alive,

sleepily living despite the layer of snow.

Something there,

green,

hidden,

and eyes are blind to it- deny it even,

and live the desperation, hating that there is no green,

refusing to look at the evidence under the snow.

The sages know.

They know white contains green in its spectrum,

and theirs are the faces that smile in the cold

with the pleasant secret of knowing that there is no secret-

only eyes that choose to see wonder,

that love to look for green,

especially in a cold, white world.

~D Gregory Smith