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Awaited.
Awaited.
Awaited.
My dog wears jingle bells around her neck:
They warn the worried squirrels as we trek.
If warmer 'twould be melted, if colder, froze:
This forty-degree slush assaults my toes.
One last push: the driveway's clear at last;
A roar, a rush, the heedless plow speeds past.
Snow makes me slip and fall, yet is so kind;
Its flakey pillow cushions my behind.
Through frozen fields with stiff'ning nose I roam;
I hope the cider's hot when I get home.
A warmer spell fulfills our shiv'ring wish,
But chills our spirits, wond'ring what went "squish."
Summer's sun promiscuously may jade,
But winter's coyly cheers the lengthy shade.
Counting syllables is silly:
Belt out couplets willy-nilly!
Snow is slippy, but has class,
Lends a cushion for my ass.
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