Winter Solitude by Diana Pierce
I feel like a hermit in my own home,
Living on top this hill in the dead of winter,
Driveway drifts with blowing snow,
Thawing to freeze like a river flows.
This chicken driver can tell you true,
It sucks to deal with winter blues.
It robs you of your freedoms and your thoughts.
You don’t know what to do or what to not.
Down one slope of icy terrain to spin upon the next,
Should you quit your job?
And wait for spring,
In hopes you’ll find the next?
Silly things embrace your mind,
Drastic measures follow,
Solitude is no excuse,
Crazy old hoot owl.