The snow is so deep, it’s starting to seep
\ninto daily life’s very marrow.
\nWith rivers of ice and white pyramids
\none oft feels like Frosty the Pharaoh.
\nIt seems every day the forecasters say,
\nGet ready for two feet of powder.
\nThe drifts look like waves upon a strange sea,
\nan ocean of frozen clam chowder.
\nIf I were a child, I’d be going wild,
\nno school and unlimited sledding.
\nBut I’m much too old and aching and cold:
\nDear God, please annul this white wedding!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The snow is so deep, it’s starting to seep into daily life’s very marrow. With rivers of ice and white pyramids one oft feels like Frosty the Pharaoh. It seems every day the forecasters say, Get ready for two feet of powder. The drifts look like waves upon a strange sea, an ocean of frozen […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[16],"tags":[3,4],"class_list":["post-566","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poem-2","tag-poem","tag-poetry-2"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":320,"url":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?p=320","url_meta":{"origin":566,"position":0},"title":"Putin Tame","author":"Rick Young","date":"February 10, 2014","format":false,"excerpt":"Olympic mountains hover after midnight on t.v., awaking western watchers with the threat of victory. The Russian peaks resplendent with a snow as white as ours belie a time when megatons, not ribbons, measured powers; when missiles sat in silos, fully dressed, awaiting word, and mutual destruction was the only\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Poem"","block_context":{"text":"Poem","link":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?cat=16"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/redtinnoodles.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/02\/Putin.jpg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/redtinnoodles.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/02\/Putin.jpg?resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/redtinnoodles.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/02\/Putin.jpg?resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/redtinnoodles.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/02\/Putin.jpg?resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":739,"url":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?p=739","url_meta":{"origin":566,"position":1},"title":"Inky Zone","author":"Rick Young","date":"July 11, 2016","format":false,"excerpt":"Somewhere between the felt tip and the ballpoint, waving as its flag a typewriter ribbon, lies in wait the dreaded inky zone. Where fingerprints are commonplace and stamp pads are the norm. Where the badge of honor is a broken pen in pocket. Where the fountain pen is king and\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Poem"","block_context":{"text":"Poem","link":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?cat=16"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":317,"url":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?p=317","url_meta":{"origin":566,"position":2},"title":"Operatic Static","author":"Rick Young","date":"February 8, 2014","format":false,"excerpt":"The voicelessness of mimes in trees, like toilet paper hung on breeze, or choking back an ardent sneeze, the subtle change as droplets freeze, springs into life upon dead air, transmission interruptus there: where once was music shrill and loud now hangs a huge but silent cloud. Some spark or\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Poem"","block_context":{"text":"Poem","link":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?cat=16"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/redtinnoodles.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/02\/Operatic.jpg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/redtinnoodles.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/02\/Operatic.jpg?resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/redtinnoodles.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/02\/Operatic.jpg?resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/redtinnoodles.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/02\/Operatic.jpg?resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":540,"url":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?p=540","url_meta":{"origin":566,"position":3},"title":"Happy Contrails 2U","author":"Rick Young","date":"January 20, 2015","format":false,"excerpt":"Silent summer white lines in the sky always made me think that soon we'd die; more so coinciding with the noontime air raid test, neck craning to spot the fatal mushroom cloud out west. Hunkered under desks in red brick schools: looking back it seems that we were fools. No\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Poem"","block_context":{"text":"Poem","link":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?cat=16"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":741,"url":"https:\/\/redtinnoodles.com\/?p=741","url_meta":{"origin":566,"position":4},"title":"Alfred E. Numeric","author":"Rick Young","date":"July 14, 2016","format":false,"excerpt":"Sitting on the front porch of our cortex, numbers shine like highly polished knives, ready to just jump into the vortex, bringing great precision to our lives. 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