Two routes hidden by white snow drifted,
And aware I could not beat or heat
And as I was alone, I waited
And figure-8 scanned it not skated
To the point where drift met the dark street;
Then scanned back towards less blanketed grass,
And guessing perhaps the better way,
Because the soil absorbs more liquid mass;
These boots could not traverse with sass
Plowed up high icy mounds to stay,
And both ways that afternoon would show
In which no step ventured attack,
Oh, I kept the “sidewalk” undisturbed, ho!
Yet knowing without shovels like whoa,
I doubted if next week I would trek back.
I could tell this while rolling my eye,
Online hours and hours me:
Two routes hidden in a drift, and I–
I took the one less covered by,
And that kept me on my safe way weee.
Note: Inspired by a favorite poem of mine, The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost.