BUSYBODY
The snow is falling like nobody’s business—
So why am I writing about it?
It pirouettes beyond control,
Insistently whispering against my window pane:
Why don’t you just leave well enough alone?
Why can’t you just let snow be snow?
My grandma’s Mason jars are now antique, In which she canned the produce of her farm-- The peaches, beets, tomatoes; but their charm ...
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