The blizzard teases our myth of mastery,
Blocking our roads, Icing our noses
Rollicking about us as we stand, bewildered.
Waiting for the buses that are slowed, stalled,
By snow: Joking rudely up our coats, as we,
Exasperated, trudge on in seriousness.
The wind whips up the snow as helpless as we
Are helpless before the snow. The snow has
Come to see the sights and stop the action;
To blow around the buildings and over that
Wall of phantasy which we have erected.
The wall which marks the limits beyond
which no wild thing may pass without first
Surrendering its soul. The wind laughs
And swirls in about us. The snow surrounds us
And settles in for a siege...

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Toronto, Ontario, is a very serious burg -- the largest city in Canada it never misses a chance to rub the noses of the rest of the country in that fact. Sometimes, the Canadian reality (winter) has a little fun at Toronto's expense ---

This poem was written after one such blizzard in 1977 . . .