Mike's Meadow Muffin January 12, 2004
The hard packed, snow creaks, beneath the tractor wheels,
in the half-light before dawn,
Lined cover-alls, felt pack boots,
and your "Elmer Fudd" hat on.
You curse the cold that numbs your face,
and makes the frost on your mustache grow,
You kind of wish it would warm up a bit,
But... that would just bring more snow.
Farenheit or Celcius
The only thing for sure you know,
When the diesel gels and your truck won't start.
forty below... is forty below!
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