It is January but there is snow

It is January but there is no snow.
We think we'll never see it here again.
A flurry came and then we saw it go.
Replaced by endless, driving, dreary rain.
The warmer days have not produced more sun,
Nor longer light, nor comfort. Every day
the great outdoors can offer us no fun.
For floods have closed the road and swept away
a bridge. Skiing, cycling, walking, all one does
In winter, holds no charms on days like this.
Just like that bridge our plans are washed to dust.
To vegetate before a fire seems more than bliss.
So damn the keeping fit, the daily chores.
I'll read beside the hearth. Do nothing more.



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