(Insert rant about stupid, stupid people and worlds and everything.) So, just before I shut down for the night, I thought I’d hit up a random poem or two. SCORE!

Wallace Stevens “The Snow Man”

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

I needed to hear this tonight. Those forecasts have started; Snow, and the chance of snow. Time to walk out into the morning and feel the air around you like a spring-fed lake, cold and deep with currents and sudden thermocline of sunlight. I forgot what all this means. Time to find the red parka, and the red boots, and the red-and-black mittens. Trees cracking in the night, cold-exploded. And the Moon, full on the diamond snow.

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