by Jerry Curtis

Created on: March 02, 2010

God ruffles his hair

With his own special comb

While his white frozen dandruff

Stacks on his home

And we, his own guests

Marvel and shovel

Our own little paths

Here in God's hovel

We build Him our statue

And call it a "man"

Made from God's droppings

It melts as it stands

For the sun is God's eye

Undoing white pelts

God's very own snow storm

Unblinking it melts

But while it is falling

We stare at His show

He lays His white cloaking

A blanket of snow

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