Snow (an acrostic poem)

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So much of the white stuff littered the ground that

No trace of anything else was in view

Obscuring the need to go anywhere else

While consuming hours moving it from one place to another

Postage (an acrostic poem)

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Putting letters into envelopes

Outside affixing addresses

Sending them from random mailboxes

That way they can’t trace it back to him

And when his victims open them?

Giving them something they will never forget

Everyone loves a fresh hundred-dollar bill, even if they are homemade