Are Any Beings This Anxious on Any Other Planets?

The usual, single-use
Plastic bags litter the grass
Along the side of the road.

No, wait. Not plastic, that’s snow,
Scraps of snow that fell last week,
Just patches now, blinding white

As store bags in the damp grass,
Not grey like old snow in town.
The sun shines down, serenely,

It would seem, on them, refreshed.
Well, that’s alright then. It’s snow.
It’s not unnatural, no.