Goodbye, cold.
I'm done.
"Finish up and get out"
ah yes, a splendid mantra
I'm a different person
in the cold
I can't think, I can't feel,
I can't be positive
It drains me and drowns me
It kicks me when I'm down
It sucks the life out of me
with a cool replacement of
dry ice and polar chill.
I scowl and curse
and slip and fall
and break and ache
and sneeze and freeze

They say you sleep a third
of your life.
How much will be spent
shoveling snow?
Dragging the poor, stressed shovel
down the snow-beaten driveway,
hitting every ridge along the way
and catching the shovel handle
in your gut.
How much time will be spent
inching white-knuckled down the
snow-covered streets,
tires spinning and going nowhere
until finally sliding into a curb.
How much time will be spent
putting on your arsenal,
double t-shirts, sweater and jacket
and hat and gloves
and scarf and wool socks and boots
and and and
every single day.
How much mind time will be wasted
worrying about the snowfall
and what time you have to get up
to clear off the white evil,
how much longer it will take you to
get to work,
and then come back at dusk to dust
off the drive again.

What's the point?
What's it all for?
Snow angels, a white Christmas,
a pretty picture?
I'll make my angels in mud,
thank you very much,
and have a roasting, sun-soaked Christmas,
taking pretty pictures
with every color but white.
I'm going where I can be outside
and still be able to think and feel.
I'm going where I can work out in the
smiling sun todos los dias.
I'm going where the only moisture
is a little rain, a bead of sweat,
and a towering glass of fresh-squeezed
jugo de piña.
"Finish up and get out"
Well I'm going baby, I'm going.

01/22/2009

Posted on 01/22/2009
Copyright © 2024 Eric Hinkle