I’m wading through the dirt of falling snow
when days are buried under too much snow
I’m stamping, waiting for a broken plough
The icy days are dark inside this fleece
of winter weather gods; I need my fleece
to wait for spring and winter weeks to cease.
I suffocate from whiffs of soggy wool
and dream of cotton clothes replacing wool
commuter train’s delayed and way too full
The nights are long but still it’s hard to sleep
and days are short while I’m awake in sleep
this month’s a sluggish crawl in snow too deep
In sodden sorrow hours feel like years
When will the summer melt my frozen tears?
I found a cool form that I wanted to try. The blues sonnet. I wonder if I fulfilled the criteria.
February 3, 2015