by Robert Frost
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
Frost said it best destruction ... I despise snow. I hate it. It is the evilness of winter that suffocates my spirit and makes me cringe in the stillness of it's cloying wetness. It leaves it's mark on me year after year. I love Michigan and all of it's wonders, but damn I hate this soft, white, fluffy percipitation that clogs my mind and stalls my heart. There is nothing that I can find worthwhile about the events of snow. I can drink hot chocolate with marshmallows melting on top in front of a roaring fire cuddled up next to my love in November without the white stuff tick, tick, ticking at the windows. Sure it's pretty, but I could look at it in photographs, while wearing shorts and drinking margaritas on a sunny beach. I shovel it, wipe it, sweep it, salt it, blow it, move it, melt it, drive on it, bundle up against it, curse it, slide on it, skate on it, and still more comes. Play in it? Rarely, and then only when drunk (I don't drink often). My boyfriend says there must be one good snowball fight a year. He also mentioned something about a facewash, and I hope he is meaning Oil of Olay, with a warm washcloth. Because if he thinks that picking up the white stuff and smearing it on a body is fun, he needs to rethink himself. He can call up all the folks he needs to have a snowballfights with, as for me, I'll be in the house waiting for spring.
Today was the first snowfall of the season.
love me later ~ tj
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