We have come to be in deep white snows
From flat lands where sun blazed all day
And a red earth snuggled up to a blue sea.
The pines are in their best white dresses
As if they are church brides for wedding
With hills duly decorated for celebration.
We have to be in billowing plastic suits
On our way up to the white celebrations,
Red plastic a fine contrast to white snow.
We would slip into the long flowing robes
Like a ho ho Santa Claus bearing no gifts.
We would rent dresses , hundred a piece.
In hills , things are temporal and on rent.
The horses take us up to snowed heights
For a hundred a piece in our rented suits.
The horses do not wear any plastic suits.
They have no money to rent them below.
When cold, they drop their poop in snow.