Chillin

Oh how pretty
See it fall
And fall
And accumulate
And I have to go to work
In the asteroid windshield
Dodging the clueless
That think it is speed limit city
If they have a truck
So I slow
And I crawl
To the edge
Then the plow
Oh dear
Stirring up a monsoon of white.
I put away the snowmen
Doesn’t that tell them
It’s time to go
Like an in-law that stays just a bit too long
Or a party that’s over
But the drunk still remains.
My ode to snow
Alas you must go.
A foot you say?
Oh nay,nay,nay.
But it’s a work day
So I must scoot
And to this ice
I mentally give the boot.
And shovel.

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