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!