by Ian Olson
Snowin. Blowin. Wake-dread is growing.
4:41 and I should be going. To the kitchen. Stop bitchin.
At this hour my lungs are twitching. Did i say AM?
Care-taking. Stairs breaking: 40 pounds of grit (knees quaking).
Jack Torrance. Abhorrent. Snow-blowing is man-making.
Winter’s here. So they say. Inner fear (every day).
Opportunity’s here: so, hey – hear, hear, snowy day.