On Snow

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SnowIn the winter it snowed, and the drifts piled up and the streets turned into slippery passageways. It was cold outside but I put on the gloves and grabbed the shovel with my icy hands. It took a long while, and then the driveway was clear.

I went and I came and I saw that the neighbor had made a big pile as he cleared off the car, and he had placed that big pile so that I could not leave.

I felt the force of the ignorant and the power of the survivors in the mountains and molehills of the snowy banks.

Did I mean so very little, or was it that I meant so very much?

It mattered then but it hardly matters now, but every once in a while I wonder what happens when they are shoveled under a pile of dirt, when the snow covers the stone.

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