Shenanigan Blizzard


Many have called it,

‘a vast wasteland…’

At this stage in the game.

Certainly surreal, fabled…

And, a New England typical.

The issue, in gloved hand?

The winter that would not end.

Parking lots wane and in finality

Become an icy swamp.

Filled with trashy vermin and what not.

An early April Fools?

Only the innately mad, knit, clad, clods…remain.

Steadfast fans of stormy clubs.

Tire chained to being numb.

Over seasoned denizens…wound too tight to succumb.

Course there are others.

Somewhat sane, light weight citizens, cowering…in varying shades of gray.

Abstaining from hope.

Slowing to a pace of tapped maple.

Tan in a can?

A New Hampshire staple.

Enough is not enough!

A stormy cry.

The Shenanigans Blizzard just leans in,

Echos…

‘bend-over, I’ll drive.’

 

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