The Snow…On Quiet Morning.

I really hate lousy poetry…so once in a while I write my own. Here’s one:

I sit, in the quiet of morning, and watch the snow.

So slowly, and gently, it caresses all .

The snow kisses the ground, and the ground welcomes it.

 All of the glory of God’s creation, is covered equally in purity,

Clean, and fresh.

I sit, in the quiet of the morning, and watch the snow

 And I wonder…

 Who will shovel this crap…

 So that I can get to the bar to watch the game?


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