what the heck ... at least it's 'on topic'! ;) fer those of you suffering the throes of winter still ..
Stopping by a Bus on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frostbitten Whose bus this is I think I know. His home is cross the river though; He will not mind me stopping here To watch his bus be topped with snow. My little bus must think it queer To stop each time we get so near To other buses that we see Parked at the malls or stores, like here. Its little engine idles rough To ask if I have had enough. The only other sound I hear Is wiper blades on snowy fluff. His bus is lovely, clean and bright, A pleasing note of all that's right. But I have traffic still to fight, And miles to go this winter's night.
The Craven by Edgar Allenwrench NoMoe Once upon a midnight frozen, As I drove the route I'd chosen, Sitting at the wheel until my butt was sore, Suddenly, there came a tapping, Tapping, as if someone rapping, Rapping gently at my sliding door. "Tis the wind, " said I to me, "Tis the wind, and nothing more." Onward through the night I traveled As my confidence unraveled, Thinking of the noise, the ill it bode. Was it just a stone in hubcap? Perhaps an unrefastened gas cap? Or something worse to break and leave me stranded on the road? "Tis the wind," said I to me, "Tis the wind, and nothing more." In the headlights, snow was falling, Still that tapping noise was calling, Calling all my senses back from whence it came. Perhaps the cv joints need greasing, And newer boots would make it pleasing. Yes, that's the ticket! That's the one to blame. "Tis the joints," I sagely muttered, "Tis the joints, and nothing more." Then, as if it heard my speaking, The noise was silent ... my ears still seeking Could find no trace of what I'd heard before. On I drove, in silent waiting, Waiting for the noise, restating In my mind the causes I had thought ... and more. "Tis my mind," said I to me, "Tis my mind, and nothing more." Throughout the trip, no noise resounded, But always now my thoughts are grounded In the causes of that noise I heard before. Like a shadow cast by sunlight, My wraith-like fears will follow; and might I, from out that shadow, e'er be lifted? .... Nevermore. |
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