Sunday, January 24, 2010

Poetry for a Sunday






Canadian Winter 

The snow came down and whirled around
and grew and grew and grew.
We scraped and blew and shovelled
but were helpless to undo.

The snow we cleared made piles
like a rocky mountain range;
And then it rained swift rivers -
nature thought we needed change.

The rain will wash away the snow,
was what we had in mind;
But slush was over boot tops -
nowhere to run could find.

The temperatures dropped and you could say
we were really in a rut;
More snow and freezing rain to come -
the weatherman's words did cut.

As long as my home is cozy-warm,
the weather I'll take on the chin;
For, after all, I'm Canadian
and bear winter with a grin.

©Joan Adams Burchell

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