Since winter is winding down here in Idaho (we hope!), I thought that this poem would be a good start. It reminisces about hurried preparations for late winter storms in southeastern New Hampshire, as well as the hope of approaching spring. Enjoy the accompanying sketch, too!
Parody
"Roses are red, violets are blue."
It will be spring, before it comes true.
Snowstorm is coming.
What should we do?
Bring out the shovels
And mittens too.
Gas up the blowers
To make the snow fly;
Catch flakes on our tongues
And in our eyes.
Fill the bird feeders
With crumbs and seeds;
String gobs of suet to
Decorate trees.
Make sure our larder
Has plenty of food,
With lots of cocoa
Carefully brewed.
Drive to the sand pile
Near the center of town:
Sand mixed with salt
To spread all around.
Generators are ready,
Filled with gas.
Can is empty --
We need more,
Alas.
Three containers are filled,
And we leave the line
Of neighbors waiting to
Fill up in time.
Not a bad storm,
Just enough to savor
Peace and quiet
Before the labor.
Yesterday's plow lines,
Neat and straight,
Rained on and frozen --
Spring may be late.
Walls of snow banks
Outlining each drive
Reduce in size and
Grass comes alive.
The loftier rays from
A warmer sun
Will do the job
Before we're done.
The sky is blue and
Birds are chirping;
Snows become puddles
That dogs are slurping.
Nature releases its bounty
Of white;
We'll stop to admire
And smile with delight.
The racket of blowers and
Neighbors at play...
All these things
Make a holiday.
"Roses are red, violets are blue."
We'll see it through...
And so will you!
Judith H. Chiarito "Majude" © 2011
