Snow sneaked in today before dawn.
Quiet arrival hopelessly tardy,
worn out after outrageously excessive
havoc-wreaking miles,
snowstorms streaking across the continent
all west of our oceanside Long Island.
Sweating-out delay while enjoying faux spring,
no snow-show ‘til January half gone!
Hello!
I greeted with a welcoming smile
the white-powdered-sugar stuff
sifted gently on garden and car.
Streets sidewalks patios, still in heat,
rejected the confectioner’s blanket.
The fallen flakes flew hurriedly away,
escaping melting morning light.
Goodbye!
Minnesota winter wisdom instructs:
put not away sidewalk salt,
shovel, boots, broom.
Expect surprise return visit.
Little green thumbs already discovered,
ready to pop up, sensing spring,
bushes trees pregnant with buds.
I shiver shudder at predictable freezes.
No alarmist, I, but, confused,
like the seasons themselves.
Something is – or isn’t – going on.
Not just in our backyard, city, state.
California?
Arctic melt?
Lone polar bear on tiny ice floe?
Columnists rant and rave warnings.
Raise your hand if you are in denial.
Will we coastal islanders need Katrina boats
when our Atlantic bathtub overflows?
