BLUES IN THE FROST
I. THE MILD WINTER BLUES
Where are those snows, those snows of yesteryear?
I mean, where have they gone, those yesteryear
Snows we used to plow through? They’re not here,
And that's for sure. The January wind
Is hardly wind at all — a late March wind
At worst. What did they do, go and rescind
Winter? What is this, a "greenhouse" easing,
An ozone-acid-rainfall-smoggy easing
Into June forever? Alaska's freezing!
It's eighty below zero up in Barrow!
Nothing works in Barrow that you can borrow,
Beg or steal, not even people. Tomorrow?
Much the same, they say, or worse. Oh, whether
It's changing or the same now or forever,
The weather is the weather is the weather.
It's February now, and it is snowing.
It started snowing back in bleak November
And kept on snowing all through cold December.
But that was nothing. In January flowing
Snow came riding bareback on the blowing
Wild west wind. No one could remember
A colder month or a more arctic winter.
It's still that way. If anything, it's growing
Worse and worse. We're halfway through the month,
And nothing's getting better. We are still
Buried in the deep-freeze — crème-de-menthe
On ice-cream. Borealis, it takes some skill
To be a tyrant. Call yourself a mensch?
This isn't cruelty, it's overkill!
III. PRUFROCK IN A NUTSHELL
And in anagram rhyme
Sometimes you need to hope for something large
To happen — you hope and pray for something large.
You need a blast, something with boom and glare!
Even though it’s spring it seems like winter.
It may be mild, but still it seems like winter —
Your quilt is not a comfort but a twiner
That muffles you in dreams you can’t recall,
In dreams you know you’d rather not recall
Like that abusive message from the midnight caller.
You need just once to be a major mage,
A Magus Magister, no minor mage —
You need to belt the run that wins the game!
You want to hear the shout and not the whimper
Fate likes to hand to you perhaps perwhim.
CORRESPONDENCE IN FEBRUARY
Groundhog Day has come and gone,
So how’s it going where you are
Up there in Maine? Are you thin and drawn
Or fat and sassy? The calendar
Tells me that the chilly dawn
Comes early now, and earlier —
C’est bon, n’est-ce pas?
I’m weathering the winter,
Withering in the wearing wind.
Valentine’s Day is over and done,
So how are things now where you live
Up there Down East? Are you still alone,
Or was there someone new to give
You chocolates or your dog a bone?
What’s up with love strained through a sieve –
C’est tres bourgeois!
I’m weathering the winter,
Weary in the weathering wind.
President’s day won’t be rerun
Until next year, so how’s it going?
Has sap in the maple trees begun
To drip? Are the buckets overflowing,
And how’s the love life? Anyone
Contributing to your fire’s glowing?
Priez, dites moi!
I’m weary of the winter
And withering in your wearing wind!
Copyright © 2012