a half hour or so

The weather clock shifted significantly this morning:
from half past autumn to grab-your-boots Winter.
Access to the street required more effort than has
been usual: instead of walking out the door in a light
jacket and casual shoes, it was heavy winter gear
(longjohns, heavy pants, T-shirt and work shirt,
thermal parka, fur-lined leather cap, heavy mitts
with gauntlets, and insulated boots.) After digging
out the above apparel and suiting up, I hunted
down the salt, the snow scoop and the shovel, while
acknowledging my wife’s exhortations to be careful.
Once outside, my body started slowly while I inventoried
my working parts: muscles shoved, lungs ramped up—
I can still do this. Yes, great planet,
I can still repel your mighty fists of wind and snow.
I can push and pile and laugh at your gargantuan engines.
Pile snow higher, and higher to the sky—no matter:
I shall mount the very tip top ramparts and become King!

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wordcurrents/ Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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