The melted snow falls heavy
On the softly frozen grounds.
Soft damp dirt is flowing
And sogginess abounds.
The rivers swell like egos
And the tin roofs play their tune
As the young folks cruise the city
And ponder whom to moon.
The church is serving soup today
While TV serves the news.
One small-town team knows victory
And one team sings the blues.
And every single raindrop
That hits earth, roof, or hair
Is happy in its wetness
And, of humans, doesn’t care.
The Daily Travesty 