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Thursday, July 20, 2017

(10) SNOW PILES UP HEAPS OF HEATING BILLS..

DEAR VISITORS:  YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE THE GYMNASTICS I PERFORM IN ORDER TO RE-PUBLISH A SERIES OF POSTS.  AT 92 THE TEXT IS A BLUR, AND I MUST PRACTICALLY  STAND ON NY HEAD AS I HOLD A LARGE MAGNIfYING GLASS UP TO THE SCREEN. THIS MANEUVER REQUIRES ME TO STAND UP FROM MY DESK CHAIR IN THE ATTEMPT TO SEE WHAT I'M WRITING WITH  MY FAULTY VISION. 

UPDATE:  SURGERY CORRECTED VISION IN MY ONE GOOD EYE.

WHAT KEEPS ME GOING? THIS BLOG AND ITS VISITORS FROM ALL OVER THE WORLD. THEY ARE NOT BIG ON MAKING COMMENTS, BUT THEIR PRESENCE IS COMMENT ENOUGH. POEM BY MY MOM...

A Desperate Ode to Snow

Bees and buds and birds inspire
Arpeggios on my lyric lyre;
But snow, so pure, so fair to see,
Strikes no responsive chord in me!
No!

My heart's a sentimental thing
That simply loves to think of spring,
But snow and slush just rust its string.
It doesn't give a single ping
For snow!

Yet if I sing of spring in winter
Surely I'd confuse the printer!
Thus my cheerful lyre begins
  To sing of frost and biting winds . . .
O-o-oh!

Snow make a place of a hovel
(While you struggle with the shovel!)
Snow gems the trees and crowns the hills --
And piles up heaps of heating bills!
Snow!

Snow flutters softly in the air.
Snow hides all scars (I've read somewhere).
Snow is beautiful though clammy --
I am going to Miami!
Ho!

Snow is something to be pleased at
(Though it's often simply sneezed at!)
I love the snow!  I do, forsooth!
Expect a lyre to tell the truth?
Snow!
                                                Ernestine Cobern Beyer

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