Every time it snows,
Dora becomes a virgin again.
It only takes one well defined flurry descending midair.
In this natural manner,
she returns to sixteen again each wintery day.
Under the snow fall is her favorite place to walk.
Flakes accumulate upon her woolen shoulders.
Flakes melt upon her upturned face.
All goes quiet while it snows. Not a peep.
Dora returns the birds from the warmth of her woolen coat
to the bushes and trees and feeders when it stops.
copyright © 2018 Kenneth P. Gurney