Wednesday 7 December 2011

Chip the snowflake

I had reason to converse with a snowflake last night. His name was Chip. Seems Chip was troubled by the climate's warming trends. He went on at length about the end of winter as we know it. Trying to be oblivious, I basked in the glow of a warm December evening.

Chip's ideas depressed the hell out of me and I voiced my objections. He just snickered as he bathed in the glass of wine I was drinking. He could care less. After all he was a showboat, a dazzling speaker who mesmerized everyone. I fell completely under his spell and ignored the frostbite slowly eating my feet and hands. I ignored, too, the blizzard whipping across our ice-encrusted balcony.

They found me this morning, still holding the glass of wine, covered in three inches of blue ice and dressed in pyjamas and sled-like sandals.  Chip and his cohort of assorted flakes swirled above chanting,
"Don't you cry,
We'll be back again some day."
 Don't know about Chip, but I expect to thaw out in time for the holidays.

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