Chemical change happens as we age,
making the hands fasten a wool collar
like an insulating blanket around the neck
keeping the north wind from chilling the body.
Hot blood surging thru conduits free of plaque
create a force-field of warmth to encompass
mind, body and soul for one more run
down the mountain, or around the rink.
Today, cold weather enjoyment is
pushing snow with a tractor blade,
while covered in satin lined fire hose
canvass clothing and Iditarod race boots.
Shoveling by hand is for hard surface
driveways and sidewalks to garages and
saved for son or daughter earning
money before or after school.
Bob-sledding down hills, backbone to belly
fashion, blinds all but the driver; he can't see,
blowing snow screens the slope bottom
like smoke bombs hiding soldiers advancing.
Sliding to a stop, the toboggan's cargo erupts
in laughter ready to drag the sleigh up the hill
for one more downhill flight before the sun
disappears below the Norway-pines at the top.
The rustic bar overlooked Great Sand Lake,
reflecting the full moon, its glass like surface
looking like a dance hall floor, ready for couples
gliding in exquisite parallel formation in
tempo based on music heard by the skaters.
Portable houses glow like tepees from fire within
as ice-fishermen look for perch or walleye
through an 8 inch hole augured thru the ice.
Becoming an inside person, the winter scene
is a welcome sight viewed outside the window,
sitting by a blazing fireplace, sipping Drambuie
straight up from a crystal old fashioned glass,
remembering the fun with kids in the snow.
Snowball fights, shaking the tree branches,
dumping snow on an unsuspecting sister
or cross-country skiing thru the bean field.
Pulling out boxes of decorations, wishing you
had put in one more electrical outlet under the
eaves to use with the white Christmas lights.
If the fire is a mnemonic, more so the trimming
of the outside brought inside to take on a
collection of individual memory pictures.
Hand painted glass balls, with yellow daisy
and leaf of muted green cover the surface.
We know the wind will not stop bringing
greetings from our neighbors to the north.
After all, they are only trying to share the
special time of year everyone holds so dear.
Every pew full of family; some even fearful,
they've not been there very often, maybe for
a funeral or a buddies kid being baptized.
Christmas Eve is special, the animals even talk.
It isn't aging that brings the cold, it's always
with us in the Midwest. Go South old man, go
South old woman; to Florida or Texas, or
Arizona, New Mexico anywhere the north wind
doesn't blow so cold and be warm in the sun.
Don't forget to come back in the spring when
the snow is gone, the Robins are in the yard, and
daffodils are bright and dandelions say hello.
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