Wednesday, December 30, 2020

Poetry: Cold


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.


Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.

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Phil Fitzpatrick is the author of Onchiota Remembered which is available on and at retail outlets in and around Saranac Lake. He has also self-published his collected Poems, Musings Inwords, available on The Phil spends most of the months of May through October in what he describes as the downtown, metropolitan center of Onchiota. He and his wife, Briggs Larkin, winter in Rhode Island. For more information about this writer see:


2 Responses

  1. Ed Zahniser says:

    The poem so convinces of the cold that I don’t think I’ll winter in Rhode Island!

    • Phil Fitzpatrick says:

      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,


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