how cold and sublime.
The sun is out and be told,
this extended cold is getting old.
The delicate white floating into sight,
tests my might to keep the positive in life.
Cold covered branches,
would be warmed with nice hot matches.
This snowy bliss is crap,
i consider to be much amiss.
in no way do I claim you as mine.
Bad poetry of the day, and an ode to Phil’s prediction of the extended winter we experienced this year.