Imagine if you will, you are strong and your mates are surrounding you. Your loved ones are everywhere, as far as the eye can see. Then slowly over time, they keep disappearing. The ones you grew with, laughed with, cried with and formed special relationships with. You watched their families grow up and grow old. Celebrated holidays like Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years and yes even Valentine's Day with them! Then one by one, they have all left, until you are all alone.

You have just put your mind in the essence of the last pile of snow in Yakima. I'm not sure which side of the news spectrum it watches, but it blames climate change for its upcoming lack of existence. Not the fact that it's now April 1st, and it should just be lucky that it stuck around past March.

Is it ready to fade away? To be just a memory of the on-again, off-again winter of 2023? Will it go gentle into that good night? Old age should burn and rave at close of day. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise snowmen at their end know dark is right, because their words had forked no lightning, they do not go gentle into that good night! When and how did this pile of snow learn of this poem from the late great Dylan Thomas?

Don't cry for this snow pile, death/melting come to us all. We should remember the great times we had with this snow. Well, maybe not this particular pile of snow at the end of the ramp at my work place. It stuck around so long, because so many people walked on it, and turned the damn thing to ice, and I slipped and fell! It can go loudly into that good night for all I care.

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