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| Moreau Lake State Park |
Old-Man's Winter
By John R. Greenwood
Wimpy, thin-skinned layer of white lays napping outside the door. Snow banks so lame, brave chipmunks peer over with ease. Winter winds barely extract a brrrr and green space remains an easy find. A jackpot for old men weary of winters past. A scratch-off season with just one number left, coin ready, waiting to hear if it's a winner or a loser. Heating bills, like a lurch-ready tiger, crouch silent beneath the surface. Rusty snowplows poised like steel sculptures rest garage-side. Plastic shovels with but a few short warm-ups lean neglected against the fence, ready to leap to action when flake-piles beckon. Weathermen with rolled up sleeves pace anxiously, checking the soft purring Doppler moving quietly along the screen. Will spring arrive with nothing to do?
Wishing that winter were over! I don't think we have seen the rest of him yet!
ReplyDeleteYes, this winter has been easier on the old bods, so far. But it's still early, some of our heaviest snows have come in March. I look out there and think of poor old Mother Earth shivering without her thick winter coat. And all those little subnivean mice and voles without their protection of tunnels under the snow being picked off easily by their predators.
ReplyDeleteDear John~
ReplyDelete(I just had to start that way, wicked woman that I Am!)
You have captured the essence of the weather, the world, from the perspective of one who has seen many seasons and has appreciated the less trying of them.
A scratch-off season with just one number left, coin ready, waiting to hear if it's a winner or a loser.
ReplyDeleteI loved those lines. :)
I love this, John, and so relate - it feels the same up here!
ReplyDeleteI've never felt at peace before after visiting a blog, until now. Great work and photos. Nice interview at Poets United.
ReplyDelete