Musings: An ode to the ice bump at the end of my driveway

Tyrant of the driveway, constant reminder of my inadequate shovel

You laughed at salt, guffawed at my labor and grew more obese with each storm

Now as Winter turns to Spring; the days longer and the weather warm

It is your slow death at which I marvel

Where once you stood tall and fat

Now, all find you are inadequate

Die, Die, Die.