Snowed In

A sonnet

photo by William J Spirdione

Don’t ever want to shovel out at all.
The anger, the stress, the aggravation.
Stay outside the door, not inside these walls.
Calm this mental storm of agitation.

Inside, outside, look, there’s no difference.
The head, that is, outside we beg the storm,
To rage. Snow falling with ambivalence,
Let the snow fall. Inside it’s nice and warm.

Buried deep under your cold white blanket,
Until wild wind hath screamed its last wroth words,
Enough supplies in this wooden casket,
Keep the world away from our frazzled nerves.

Soon find ourselves outside with snow shovels.
Feeling much better with some sore muscles.