In Which My Wounded Dignity Is Soothed By The Music Of The Spheres

Spring snow is wet and sloppy, and so slick

Today's word really ought to just be "fall"

(The verb and not the season: quite some trick

To make it through the winter, almost all

Of it, and not once take a digger, but

Do so today, spectacularly, too!).

I don't mind, though; my Exoplanet nut,

Roald has set my mind at much ease through

This music that he found, for list'ning while

One gazes as the sky and contemplates

The worlds that spin out there. I have to smile

Despite this bone-deep chill. A hot bath waits

But not just yet, I'm digging all these tracks,

And it's high time I kick back and relax.