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The snow squeaks underfoot
and dusts your parka white
Nostrils velcro together
While every thing sparkles
Smoke rises flagpole straight
And the chickadees eat seed from your hand.
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Poetry: Cold
2 Responses
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Latest News Headlines
- Road Salt task force members frustrated with report delays - Adirondack Explorer
- Round Mountain: High Peaks feel without crowds
- Portage with purpose, on the Marion River - Adirondack Explorer
- DEC: Stay out of way of rail-trail construction - Adirondack Explorer
- Raquette Lake microgrid raises concern among residents
- Budget clarifies concealed carry law, Adirondack Park
- Mobile boat-cleaning station helps control invasives in Schroon Lake
- Akwesasne marches remember missing and murdered indigenous people
- What climate migration could mean for the Adirondacks
- After 200 year wait, work planned to free Saranac salmon
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The poem so convinces of the cold that I don’t think I’ll winter in Rhode Island!
There is no real winter here in RI, Ed. It’s a source of amusement to me how locals react to a few inches of snow as there rush to buy milk and bread. My winter poems come from over thirty winters in northern Vermont.
Best wishes for 2021,
Phil