January 2020

There's a  new year upon us, and we're buried in snow.

But the woodshed is warm with the crackle and glow 

Theres the smell of Nag Champa and Jack Herer in the room,

Snap of the snare and the kick pedal booms

New sounds emerge from electrified jams

We're still full from Christmas turkeys and hams....

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