The soft, white, fluffy substance
Lines the grounds and trees,
Up and down mountains, and

Through fields which used to
Be a lush dark green color,
Which still pokes up to the surface.

Chairs swing around a large
Metal pole, with people being
Carried on them. The chairs

Let the riders off as they
Effortlessly slide across the
Vast whiteness on nothing

But plastic boards.
They swoop gracefully back
And forth, leaving a pair of

Parallel lines as the only
Trace they were ever there.
Small ghostly clouds rise into

View, indicating another
Newcomer, ready to make
Their mark, knowing that

With due time, the only trace
Of their existence in that place
Will be wiped away,

Along with anyone else’s
Trace, as nature takes over
Our world, now covered

With a quilt of white,
And brings it back to a lush
Dark green state, as it once was.