Ordinary Things
Tuesday night the snow fell
In Biblical proportions
And piled in deep drifts
That obscured the road
And in the morning
We pondered the snow blower
Its reek and roar
Or the shovels
And our aching backs.
We watched our breath,
Exhaling white streamers
Into the bitter cold
Just there in the garage.
Having done neither,
Our fingers tingling,
Frost forming in my beard,
We decided that not one
Or the other had merit
And contented ourselves
With hot chocolate
And books
And waited for the snowplow.
Or the spring.
2007-08-26
15:44:45
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Poetry