Tis the season to be snowed in

Tis the season when I want to postpone the shock of feeling the frigid air hitting my skin

Tis also the season to forge a new path in the frozen tundra, as the wise suggests

No, I say while shaking my head, tis the season to ignore those annoying voices petitioning me to clean up the messes

All day, it is the warmth of my bed I miss

All day, it is hiding from the reality of having to clear the unending accumulation of snow which gives me bliss?

Tis the season to be snowed in

Looking through my window, I see today’s increased burden caused by yesterday’s delay

I can no longer hide from the work, try as I may

Tis the season to be snowed in

Wait…Can the unending accumulation of snow be the metaphorical reflection of the state of the world we live in?

Is inaction, the bliss of ignorance or the paralysis of denial?

Is it better to be frustrated by the complex or be comatose by the banal?

Maybe the snow will magically disappear

Or maybe someone else will come along and be a dear…

Sigh…Wishful thinking has thus far become a liability

So, maybe digging out little by little is within my ability…

So, maybe I will see how far I can get each day and continue going

Tis the season to be doing and knowing