The speaker is in prison, watching the first snow of winter settle along the razor wire on top of the fence. That thin white line seems to divide everything: ground from sky, lawn from trees, green from blue. With his cell-mate gone to court, the usually noisy place feels even emptier, and he is left alone with his thoughts.
Those thoughts turn to his mother's latest letter. She scolds him, saying he should be ashamed and isn't really being punished since he has a roof, a bed, meals, clothes and a radio. He says this hurt more than the gallows would have. Her words are cold, like the snow and frost around him. Yet her letter ends with a simple question, "Have you made any new friends?" That small, caring line softens the blow. The mood is quiet, lonely and wintry, but a little warmth gets through at the end, showing that her concern for him hasn't gone away.