Two Faces of Winter

I’ve always had a love/hate relationship with winter. A snowy day on Belle Isle can be magical. Getting your car stuck in snow is not. On the cusp of another winter, I wrote these two poems as a way of coping. Embrace whichever one suits you. After all, our attitude is just about the only thing we can control in the next few months.

In Praise of Winter

I pity you, poor Floridians
who will never know
the cold

or the crunch and squeak
of boots on packed snow.
The tickle and crackle
in your nose
when the temperature plunges,
and you see in every exhalation
what being alive looks like.

You’ll never know the rare
dazzle of sunlight on snow
against crystal blue sky,
transcendent as any sunrise
on ocean.

You will never see or make
a snow angel, snowman, snow fort,
or know the satisfying splat
of a snowball hitting its mark.

Never stop at the front door
to scrape and stomp snowy boots,
letting the rush of warm air
make your cheeks tingle,
and your toes wake up,
protesting.

Never know just how good
a fleece blanket can feel on bare toes,
as you fold into yourself
on the couch,
cradling a steaming mug
of ginger tea,
believing in and breathing in
its healing powers,
think about lighting candles,
and letting the cool jazz
of Miles Davis
steep you in a Northern kind
of warm.

Curse You, Winter!

I resent you Floridians
who will never know
the cold

or the sound
of a scraper hacking
windshield ice
in 6 a.m. darkness,
or the needles inhaled
with every breath
as the temperature plunges
to lows that should only be
experienced by frozen peas.

You will never know how easy
it is to forget the look and feel
of sunlight.

Never know the wet
shiver of snow sliding
under your scarf and down your neck
from a well-placed snowball.

You’ll never race bitter wind
to the front door
to scrape and stomp snowy boots,
and prepare to curse
the pain of dead toes
being resurrected.

Never need fleece on bare toes
as you stretch out on a lounge chair,
drink a pina colada
and think of playing
18 holes tomorrow.

Perhaps a bit of cognac
will ease my resentment
and soothe me into
a Northern kind of warm.