SNOW

Snow, as heavy as death,

How you break the frail back.

Shoveling is a gladiator sport, and

Winter is the lion which slays you.

ย 

Roar the oncoming hordes of flakes.

Sodden mittens clench the staff,

A blade against an unrelenting foe.

Blisters in anticipation.

ย 

Hurl the churlish weapon in futile rage.

A pain given is a pain received,

For every shovelful is death to someone.

And snowmen weep when the sun comes out.

ย 

Latticed crystals mock in six-sided glee

Covering once more the open ground.

Laying the monstrous earth to sleep.

Writing epitaphs in mounds of white.

11 thoughts on “SNOW

  1. Reblogged this on TheDustSeason and commented:

    As the fourth snow day in a row reveals the madness of winter housebound by frigid air and fluffy white stuff, I am revisiting a piece I wrote in 2015. Truer today than it ever has been.

    Like

    1. Thank you so much. I’m hesitant to put my writing, especially my poetry, forward. I never feel my work is ready for the light of day, but eventually, I love a piece enough despite its flaws, that I feel it is safe to share. So, thank you.

      Liked by 1 person

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