When a storm
is a brewing
we remember
all things
that were not done
In a panic
we see the approaching future
Snow blankets covering the easy
Pretty but with an unpleasant afterglow
But panic made me busy
and I am happy to say
the wood so very unattended all summer
is now stack in the shed
Every log split carefully
like seeds within a row
Only now I am very tired
from working all day long
and only want to dream
this night of warming pleasant poems
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