Recalcitrant Winter

There's grumpy winter expressing
the usual adamant insistence that
it alone owns the landscape, with
its frigid beauty of delicate lacy
ice crystals adorning frozen trees,
thick layers of snow nestling the
forest undergrowth, incredulous
that ingrates such as humanity
grumble over prolonged presence
of inclement weather disguised
in the grace of alpine white purity.

That there is a preference for the
snow abundance to melt, revealing
dark, gritty forest spoilage defies
logic, and aesthetic grace, winter
asserts, loosing yet another avalanche
of softly gentle snow to tempt opinion
otherwise than with the irritating
anticipation of spring's tardy entrance.