snow, rain, freezing rain, and hail grasp branches in an icy grip
not giving up without a fight, while the wind blows strong along
streets that have become a war zone of frozen holes
where bodies disappear into the depths of Hades
created by ice instead of snow, warmth their only salvation.
Where is our winter, our traditional time
of forming snow angels, catching flakes on tongue,
evening shovelling while neighbours towing babes in sleighs
walk by giggling, warming this heart with a it’s not THAT bad sigh
and delighting in birds, o so colourful, visiting the feeder,
with a song so pure on a crisp, cold day.
Instead we slide and huddle against the bitter wind
assaulting us with unworldly, so un Canadian winter
causing us to dread each new day with Weather Warnings
though this day the sun is bright, is warm, and hopeful that
Spring is just around the corner, but for now Al Green is blasting,
plans for the garden are forming, toes are warm and I’m smiling.