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The road is dry,
the trees are still--
The big snow storm,
in forecast only, not for real.
I sigh in relief--
what a lucky escape.
I'm having chionophobia--
the fear of snow, and the dirty road afterwards.
She says, "Me too. We don't have snow either--
only freezing rain.
Two colleagues with Omicron here--
I work from home again. Take care."
Several years ago, she sought my advice.
"No. Don't do it." I gave her my conservative opinion.
I was reading Eliot at the time who says
that a moment's dare cannot be retracted
by an age of prudence.
I've regretted it ever since.
It's not about her, since she probably
wouldn't listen to me anyway.
It's about me--
I'm so disappointed in myself.
Am I the flightless bird,
who dreams of flying, but will never fly?