Poem for Saturday and Looking at Snow

The Snow That Never Drifts
By Emily Dickinson

The Snow that never drifts —
The transient, fragrant snow
That comes a single time a Year
Is softly driving now —

So thorough in the Tree
At night beneath the star
That it was February's Foot
Experience would swear —

Like Winter as a Face
We stern and former knew
Repaired of all but Loneliness
By Nature's Alibi —

Were every storm so spice
The Value could not be —
We buy with contrast — Pang is good
As near as memory —

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Apart from a walk to see the melting snow crusting over into ice again, the only excitement of my Friday involved Pokemon and TV. We watched WandaVision before breakfast so the internet couldn't spoil us, and that was delightful evil fun although I'm angry about the dog, and we binged pretty much the entirety of Dickinson, which is both pure crack that I'm embarrassed as an English teacher to have loved so much and pure crack that as an English teacher I hope gets people reading more Dickinson. 

Lots of birds and squirrels visited us for birdseed since most of the grass is still under snow. We had eggs for lunch and Beyond Burgers for dinner and no cats threw up in my hair, which must be labeled as a win. I still have two friends going on a week with no power (and bullshit from their public officials) and a two friends dealing with major health issues, so I still have constant background stress on top of this year's constant simmering stress, and I am really done with that. This winter needs to end!