Polar Vortex
When the Polar Vortex comes around,
no place of refuge can be found.
At first it is unseasonably warm,
only the bright sun to bring any harm.
A deceptive reprieve before the storm,
time to prepare for the uncommon norm.
The first thing felt is a stiff wind,
followed by rain driving creatures in.
To their shelters of choice, dry and warm,
for they sense the coming of the storm.
The rain turns to snow with giant wet flakes.
But is not a gentle snow for what the wind makes.
Wind sucks out the warm from every abode,
blows the snow furiously across every road.
A howling blizzard rakes the barren land.
Wind and cold few creatures can withstand.
Piling up snowdrifts like desert sand dunes,
arresting landscape in sculptured plumes.
Without shelter from the wind and cold,
death stalks anyone who would be so bold.
As to venture out into the day or night,
while the blizzard rages obscuring sight.
The storm breaks with a deceptive calm.
Like a crystal clear ice covered frigid dawn.
But the cold runs through you like a sharp blade,
sucks out the life force and numbs in the shade.
Before it is realized, hypothermia sets in.
Frostbitten, one can feel the internal din.
As the blood coagulates, freezes and bursts,
death in the desert of snow white really hurts.
Copyright 2019 © Ronald W. Hull
1/31/19
You can read this poem at my website here.
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budd
Sandie .
Love ya!
Jane
Stay warm...or cool...
Blessings!