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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
- High Rock on the Oswegatchie River
- St. Regis Falls school board fires 2 principals on same day, board member resigns
- Hickory Ski Center faces deadline to fund ski lifts
- Missing RIT student could be in the Adirondacks
- A new Adirondack growth: Whiskey fungus
- Hiker dies near Rainbow Falls in Keene, New York
- Saranac River trail network keeps growing
- Tupper Lake's water woes
- Santa's Workshop: 75 years of magic
- Powering up their way: Adirondackers living off the grid
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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