Waterlogged snow is just too much:
in its gray-tinted form it’s known as slush;
even in white it’s a terrible burden:
just push it and lift it before it can harden
into a compound that’s not very nice:
a procrastinator’s nightmare cursed as ice.
Wallow in pity, cry to the skies:
if slush gets to harden your pulse will rise
to no avail; you’ve overlooked
that if sloppy slush hardens your goose is cooked.
So haul out your shovel and rev your engines:
that slush will thwart you is its intention.