Snow

There is snow between my bare toes,
there is cold against the back of my neck,
and my hand is grabbing the grass through the snow
And I do not let go.
That is all,
nothing is spectacular.
There are brown, brick buildings in all directions.
There are barren trees in cages,
there are empty swings.
I have not loosened my grip,
and my eyes are frozen shut,
it is numbness.