Snow

 Snow 

 I’ve written about it before, more than once—how godawful it is.
     Because here’s what happens, the snow comes and all is gray, then the voices come and all is garbled,*
     and I cannot see to see, I cannot hear to hear, I cannot think to think.

 12.16.20

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 * Like cats retching, gangsters talking out of the sides of their mouths.
    Photo: Famartin, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons