Wrote a Poem Today

As warm as a spring time sun
leaves much to be desired
12 inches of snow is no fun
makes me feel defeated and tired

I decide not to shovel
I can not accept the facts
moving that snow is too much trouble
Denial my option when acceptance lacks

But 12 inches is a solid foot
Traction is hard to find
A sound that definitely is not good
Spinning tires that whine and whine

Less work for me I think and hope
To dig out if needed at all
A thought that makes me moan and mope
Is shoveling a driveway the opposite of small.

I back out of the garage
Hopes high, foot on the gas
Confident look on face is a mirage
My only hope is go fast.

The first time I get stuck
The snow and the dirt make layers
White is the snow, black is the muck
Oreo cookies made by tires.

A shovel in the trunk I store
A shovel is needed here.
The snow is deeper than the bottom of my door
Will I be late?  I fear.

I move the snow from around each wheel
And from under the front of the car
Jump back in seat. Confidence I feel
Will get me to the road and the tar.

I'm moving! I'm happy!  I'm giving it gas.
But the snow is too deep for my Honda to cope.
The speed of my car slows to a stop from the fast
pace I had and now I am loosing my hope.

I step out for the second time.
My work pants are wet to the knee.
Dig. Dig. Dig. Back in the car I climb
8 car lengths and then I'm free.

I'm moving!  I'll make it. This time I'm sure.
A big push to the finish is needed.
The plow left a hump.  Speed will be the cure.
Step on it Martha! Through the deep snow I speeded.

I'm almost there.  I can see a plowed road.
On time to work I might make it!
What's that orange to my left? 72 passenger load?
A school bus.  Oh, f---ing G-- ----it!

Again I climb out and in the snow I can see
the imprint of my undercarriage.
Dig. Dig. Shovel. Shovel. Poor, poor pitiful me.
The season of winter I disparage.

Third try is a charm.  On the road I am moving.
Traffic is slow and terrible.
I'm glad I'm unstuck.  My situation improving.
Half hour late is bearable.

My pants dry by eleven. Damp calves half the day.
But that's not the worst thing of all.
My mood is what sucks.  I don't like to feel this way.
Crabbiness I wear like a shawl.

Look on the bright side I think aloud in my head
Be like the great Pollyanna.
Two strong arms for shoveling; not confined to bed
Few years I can move.Louisianna?