What can you say about snow
That hasn't already been said?
It's white and it's soft and it's cold,
And it slides down your neck from your head.
Some shovel it, breaking their backs,
But others, who take life at ease,
Wait for the sun to come out,
While shushing around on their skis.
Children think it is immense;
A gift from the gray clouds above.
Adults that must drive through it think
It shows God has not any love.
What I think of snow is just this:
A smart man will, sooner or later,
Do what I've already done
And move down to the Equator.
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