The Snow Fortress

The Snow Fortress

I went into the snow

to write a little verse

gain some inspiration

from the oh so frosty ... ?

purse?

nurse?

curse?

hearse?

ah screw it

from the oh so frosty earth

that didn't rhyme as well

but good enough right?

...

It was far too cold for writing. It had stopped snowing but had grown far colder. There is a certain fulfilled warmness you feel when the air is filled with falling flakes. But an absence creates an abhorent vacuum that sucks the warmth out of a man.

I had sat down in a drift to write but the damp biting in my toes distracted the mind from such literary seekings. Instead I started to pack and shovel snow to distract myself from the pain. Soon a fort began to take shape.

My footly digits completely forgotten, I worked until my fort was waist high. Finally sitting down inside it exhausted I reflected on past events and intntions. On how they had morphed and changed to create this end.

I thought on this for a while and came to this conclusion: When you've got a fort made entirely out of snow you don't really need inspired poetry or toes. You write prose.