Early Snow

Winter crept right up on fall,

Slugged it with a blackjack, took its cash,

And left it bleeding in the snowy street,

Still dressed for a party that was over now.

It was an ambush. It was beautiful -

The shock of white against the blazing leaves.

Thank Heaven for surprises, even those

That catch us gormless and make fools of us.

Fall fell, but spring will spring up; spring will take revenge,

And color, coming back in triumph, will

Make mincemeat of its bragging frozen foe,

Who, knowing when he’s licked, will lick his wounds,

And dream in dark places of his next attempt.

Thank Heaven, too, for rivals; without them,

How would we know what secret stuff was ours?

How would we forge the straight shaft of a soul,

If not in fires meant to vanquish us?

Let us be tempered by what means us ill,

And that which does not kill us, let us kill.

Stan Lee

Really sad to hear about the passing of Stan Lee – shameless huckster, unrepentant cheeseball, ham-fisted prose stylist, inveterate limelight-hogger, and stone-cold genius. His creations will endure as long as pop culture exists, and his imagination brought color, vibrancy, and gosh-wow excitement to an all-too-often gray and serious world.

In the words of The Man himself: "Marvel is a cornucopia of fantasy, a wild idea, a swashbuckling attitude, an escape from the humdrum and the prosaic."

Thank you for living, Stan Lee. Excelsior.

Small Talk

People who hate small talk just don’t understand subtext.