Silent ballet from the sky,
scattered with a flannel sigh.
Soft upon the grasses shy . . .
go pick on some other guy!
Take your dainty lacework hence.
Touch not flower, rock or fence.
Tell me, have you any sense
just how much you make me tense?
Freeways slick with frozen fear.
Driveways choked with your white cheer.
Shovels rend the atmosphere.
Rusty backs go out of gear.
There will never be a truce
with you out there on the loose.
But there's hope I can produce --
global warming cooks your goose.
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