Snow is a Four Letter Word

I don’t know what the weather is like where you’re at, but here in Northern Indiana, it’s cold and there’s snow everywhere.  This would be unremarkable except that two days ago it was in the 60s.  I can honestly say that I have even used my air conditioner and my furnace in the same day.  It made me think of a piece I wrote about 6 years ago.  I had to write a sonnet for a writing class I was taking, so I wrote this (in my opinion) wonderful sonnet questioning spirituality and one’s rightful place in the universe.  I get it back, and the comments went something like this:

I liked the sonnet, but change everything in it.

I’m paraphrasing here.  So, I changed it.  Hope it gives you a chuckle.

 

Meditation on Pigeons

 

I wish I was a pigeon in the breeze

To flutter, fly, escape these enclosed walls

To soar past buildings high above the trees

And soil the statues during nature’s call

The dirt, the grime, the smog I do not mind

And so on feathered wings I take to flight

Near benches in the park is best to find

The breadcrumbs tossed across the banks of white

The homeless leave these treats upon the snow

And I am pleased those kind folk thought to share

They barely have enough for them, I know

And still they gave me all that they could spare

So when the Cops evict those gentle ‘bos

I leave a pigeon present on their clothes.

 

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