Poem for the Day
As children we were convinced
by a picture-book ideal
and a prescribed order to things
that all Christmases should be white
and that icicles should hang
from frosted roofs and frozen wires
Even though prairie grass was yellow straw
and purple pansies bloomed in baskets
and shorts were worn throughout the year.
On this small island grass stays green
because rain is the one reliable thing
and May might be as cold and wet as March
Only the predictable procession of flowers
springing from earth-buried bulbs
signals the unfolding of the seasons
But February is a chink in the wall
of a hundred days of darkness
and shadows are not as important as light.
No matter what the groundhog says
Winter will continue
its advance and retreats
not by any measured pace
but as if conducted by a general
hampered by conflicting orders
and his own uncertain temperament
Give the daffodils their marching orders.
Send enough snow to cancel school.
I've never really had enough of it to become inured to its charms. Although winter is supposed to be snowy, few of my winters have been graced by this magical white stuff.
Because anything more than a dusting of snow brings temperate climates to a standstill, we huddled by the radio this morning to get the vital news: Would my children be released from the obligation of attending school? The happy answer was yes . . . and hot chocolate, pancakes and a long walk in the snow followed.
(Why is it that all children know to make snow angels, and snow balls, and sledge down hills?)
While I was lying in bed, wondering whether I should get up or not, I started sketching out this poem in my mind. I haven't written a poem in many years, and I'm not even sure if this qualifies, but I was inspired by the Fourth Annual Bloggers Poetry Reading.
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