Stolen Winter, Robbed Blind and No One's Noticed

We are all victims of a massive theft!

What are we to do? Who do we call? The mayor, the police? Nope, not even the feds can help us with this highway robbery.

My kid, your kid, everyone of them pilfered in broad daylight of the opportunity
to build snowmen, toboggan a hill, angel-ize a space in the snow, and gosh
forbid—help shovel a driveway.

Artist and poets alike laud the Midwest for its perfect four seasons. Birth, dying,
re-birth and the whole bit. Heck, not this year; I think my lawn is still
green.

How depressing.

I need an injection of wintry Art Hill, maybe even Suicide Hill if I'm feeling
brave.