In the Winter There is Time
By Jeff Hopkins
Where am I supposed to go in this never ending blizzard of frozen rain?
It piles up on the walks, the swingset, my car will remain here for days
People just aren't meant to move through this mess
The salt, snowblower diesel, scraping plows and whistling heaters
Just leave me alone, why can't I hibernate?
So there is this thing called the Internet
It works even in the cold. So I grab some coffee and write, and write
The power won't go out, the storm wasn't that terrible
And I have all the time I need for email and being social checking photos
In my bathrobe
Oh, wait that's not what I meant, really, but the Internet does well there too.
But I'm just writing, really I am. Decent stuff too. Good decent stuff.
Oh God, get me out of this house
Melt you damn snow, melt!