Longing for warmer weather, tired of shoveling all the snow from a New England winter.

A Wintery Mix

These seasons change so quickly, we look but never see,
Our hectic lives so tightly woven, we can hardly breath.

Colored lights are flashing, red buckets they do ring,
Now’s the time for Santa, with all the debt he brings.

Freely flowing champagne, the globe has hit its mark,
Counting down the seconds from Lombardi to Dick Clark.

Outside the world fell silent, this stretch of time won’t fly,
The Arctic wind blows bitter, stinging hands, ears, and eyes.

That “Spanish Boy” has spoiled us, these shovels aren’t in use,
Then “old man” winter moves in, his trip long overdue.

Evening temps do plummet, the “old man” cracks a smile,
He throws a quilted blizzard, atop this ten inch pile.

This month will last forever, inside his icy grip,
Let’s not wait for April, to make that Florida trip.

(c)2000 P.L.Dow