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?
SHAKESPEARE The Master strolled upon the beach, And stooped to find Among the shells washed up in heaps, Mere husks of Mind— ...
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