It's cold outside,
As snow falls
And the wind constantly rearranges it.
There's Burger King brown paper sack,
Caught in the wind.
The wind picks it up and tosses it around,
As if it is trying
To get rid of it.
Burger King bag,
You mar the beauty of winter.
With your crinkledness,
Those corners that reach down
And scratch
At the smooth pillow of snow.
You fly in the face of Nature's order,
Nature's choreography for today.
The deadened leaves in the air
Dance beside you begrudingly.
But Nature will always come out on top.
God gave her that power.
And so you,
Burger King bag,
Are blown into a corner,
A niche where the winds cannot pick you up.
You cannot escape.
The snow falls down,
Slowly erasing
Your every trace.
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