God’s Ironic Humor

God’s Ironic Humor
Oct. 28, 2009

Snow. Why do they all like you?
You’re the Heavens’ unfunny joke,
Only appreciated by these foolish folks.
You break their bones with your slippery choke,
You bury their cars with your frosted cloak.
You are the cold that up their gas bills,
You are the mud in their carpet they cannot distill.
They think you are beautiful;
Fluffy, soft and blissful.
To me, O villain, you are nothing but bane,
The goddamn object of my disdain.
O wretched mocker of today,
I pray pretty please, go astray.
So I can run once more to my heart’s content,
Oh happy joy you won’t relent.