And the Snow Was Somehow the Cause of the Maloccluded Door

Earlier in the month but lately begun, (Or was it perhaps the last one, the one before-November? I know of a surety that it was a time uncoated by congeries Of most alabastrine snow, and that that which is blanketing All now, it was not present then. The abundant Cleanness and glaringly white cleanliness of snow's earthward fall: This plummeting and deposition of the flakes that seem as Deific dandruff, else manna or some snowlike thing that Depends from out the pregnant, grey, ominous clouds That encroach as a marauding soldiery does on these Brumous days in this niveous, frore portion of the Twelvemonth whereat and wherein man has to contend And pit himself against the snowy flakes. Yet, the ground being filthy with dirt, And the cleanliness of snow being nowhere, 'Twas almost certainly in the bleak, but snowless November), I ope narrowly the door of one of my brethren's truck, Yet, though 'twas warm, occlusion proved impossible, And still the door hung ajar despite all my most and best efforts to Seize it shut and close it. Yet now the snows are covering it, coating it... And still it remains unvisited, yet perhaps when my brother Repairs outside to see it, to step into and drive it, Perhaps when he notices the ajar door, Then mayhap he will think the snow somehow was the cause of the Maloccluded door.