By G.E. Shuman
The snow is still falling in this world of white and ice
And temps are quite low, which always makes things nice
For fuel bills to soar as high as an eagle
While wild winds howl like a lovesick beagle. *
(*Sorry… had to rhyme with eagle.)
It’s difficult to live where it simply keeps snowing
Sometimes until May, when the long johns stop showing
On good ol’ boys, sitting on coffee shop stools
While talking of trucks and Floridian fools.
“I got my plow fixed for just five hundred dollars.”
“That’s better than me, someone down the stools hollers.”
And others just grunt over eggs and home fries.
And grin at the waitress with the pretty blue eyes.
If you don’t know, and want to, I’ll tell you the reason
I wrote this today in Vermont’s longest season.
Though it’s spring, we’re still frozen in gray and in white
But it won’t be too long, ‘til it’s dark just at night.
Yes, winter is long here where salt trucks run in spring
And plows are heard scraping and tire chains still sing.
But May will be coming, old gas grills will sizzle
As soon as they’re dragged from the slush and the drizzle.
As the snow begins melting and going away
The new young tree buds will spring out while kids play
In rain boots, in puddles, then winter will end.
When mud season comes, summer’s just round the bend!