| http://www.w3.org/ns/prov#value | - Snow up to our waists and coming down still.There was a field here once, when we began.We marked the end zones and set up the goals.Now nobody can even move, much less tackle.I am Ganymede fleeing on a temple frieze.We stand around like lovesick Neanderthals.We are Pompeian before Pompeii was hot.We have the aspect of the classic deadOr of stranded, shivering astronauts.
|
