Snow Day Revisited
I know I wrote I did not mind shoveling snow,
but not so much when the weather is ten below.
Each scoop of snow seems heavier as I’m aging.
Thoughts of moving the snow become less engaging.
As snow deepens it’s not so much fun as before.
My body rebels. My tiring muscles grow sore.
My Woolrich pants have quickly become my best friend.
(At least until this bitter cold comes to an end.)
I saw the sun filter through heavy clouds today
changing from dismal charcoal to an icy gray..
Shoveling becomes less fun each time that it snows,
especially when a cold and frigid wind blows.
I pray this cold spell soon breaks and moderates,
susceptible to the winter blues it creates..
Fingers and toes chill, while cheeks and lips turn blue.
I dream of distant warm places like Kathmandu.
I am not a snow bird that hears Florida’s call,
but I cringe when the fist snowflakes begin to fall.