You, who will shortly land smiling in a wailing plane, gray eyes and gray wool dress, from the land of the blank white field and the black upright tree; bring some order into Florida. A proper winter will freeze the intricate quick water, and make even a walk downtown a thought-out thing. While here the sun still burns, the water is continual; no stillness and too much of change. But you promised me snow, somehow you’d bring snow, and if I looked quickly, I might find in crystal a brief symmetry, before the sun takes even that away. But whatever coldness you can bring, bring some, and quickly! come! for the long light of the morning sun allows only my continual walking.