Did I Wake Up in Antarctica?

I was born in Maine, and raised in New Hampshire, and I’ve seen my share of cold and snowy winters. I have skied in it (both downhill and cross-country), skated on the ice, made snow forts and snow angels, climbed up snow mountains and sledded down snowy hills. I’ve bundled up in snow suits, knitted hats and mittens and heavy boots and scarves, and played in the snow despite a runny nose and chapped lips. I’ve always enjoyed winter and the cold–but THIS winter is a doozie. This is a winter so cold that opening the freezer feels almost balmy.

As usual, when I run out of text, I go straight to poetry, and here it is:

This Winter

My nose hairs are frozen

As well as my nose, and

My fingers, they are frigid,

My feet, they are rigid.

My body heat is failing

And my arms are flailing,

To keep me upright

So I won’t fall right

Into more snow and ice

‘Cause I’ll freeze in a trice,

And they won’t find me til Spring

And by then I’ll look nothing

Like the gal I was

Before I fruz

Into one big block

That they’ll have to shock

To bring me out of the snow,

Like a thousand-year old Eskimo.

This cold, you can keep it–

In fact, you can sweep it

All into the sea,

Where the fish and the seabirds

Can fill it with turds

For all I care–

I’m staying in my long underwear!










One thought on “Did I Wake Up in Antarctica?

  1. Phyllis Ring says:

    πŸ™‚ Changing my address, too. πŸ™‚

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