Sonnet CCLV

What shining snow beyond my windowpane! How brown!
Surrounded by the gaping grass, a strange chartreuse,
the splendid plane of lawn glows as a muddy mousse!
To think, the snow is sparse and what, December now?
I think myself too lucky for Pollution’s frown!
These clumps of snow, so gently touched by sun and goose,
are spread with canine excrement of darkish poop –
what chance – Pollution’s work! How kindly she endows,
and what a mastermind! As searing as a flame,
disrupting Old Man Winter’s stupid, foolish game -
salvation like prophetic scripture, free of vice!
Pollution favours us! We giggle at her touch,
which slaps the frozen earth and turns it to a mush,
exalting strange, unnatural warmth, obstructing ice!