Too damned much politics is abroad in this beautiful land. The sky
isn’t falling; the rain is falling. The wind is blowing crazy cold,
but it’s blowing good to somebody, maybe in Kansas. A fellow with a
farm down the road lost his wife to cancer a while back, and
now has cast a kind eye on a lady he met at Wilbur’s General Store.
They went away for her birthday.
The Red Sox are arriving in Ft. Meyers for spring training, and I’m
about to broadcast spinach seeds atop the snow for an early spring
And cold as the wind on my face may be, it’s this storm, not us,
that’s bound to blow away.