There is a man outside snow-blowing China. At least that’s what it sounds like as he’s certainly gone over his allotted snow-blowing time. We got 5 inches buddy, use a shovel, it might be good for you. I find it funny that people around here have snow-blowers. It really doesn’t snow THAT much. I mean we might get one big storm in the winter, but otherwise it’s dust. You could blow it off the sidewalk! (I used an exclamation point…dammit)

I’m blaming my distraction on him – totally on him. I won’t tell him that I’d been sitting here for an hour staring at my poem trying to bridge it, weave it, make the damn thing work and just when I thought I’d opened the door to let my mind step into the words, something pulled me out again: the taste of my coffee, the apps I’m downloading on my stupid ipod that for some reason I brought into the room with me. I’m playing my mom in “words with friends” – basically scrabble, but if I say that they’ll get sued – and she’s kicking my ass so far.

The snow last night was beautiful and silent. The drop of tiny crystals that lit up the dark. I love how snow absorbs whatever light it can and as it falls and collects (this guys is killing me – I think he’s moved on to plowing Russia). Maybe I’ll just shovel snow instead.

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