I grew up in Michigan and spent most of my life in what are called northern climes. I have now moved to Phoenix and live in the sun and heat. However, memories of cold and snow don't just melt away. There is no spring thaw that can erase these thoughts. So one day I sat down and rediscovered in my mind these memories. Here is what I wrote:
Wintertide
Jack Frost painted lacework
on the boughs of trees
and froze dew drops
crystalline on grassy leas.
Mother Nature soon arrived,
Rubenesque of girth
and spread her snowy robe
across the sleeping earth
Then the couple danced a turn
on every lake and stream
leaving a glassy surface
a perfect skater's dream.
Father Christmas entered
quite portly and jolly
white beard, red suit,
jingle bells, and holly.
But winter gets weary
when it gets old
and short days are filled
with bluster and cold.
In every house
the air is moist and full
with the odor
of snow wetted wool.
The days lengthen,
but ever so slowly,
as winter holds on
with a grip that's unholy.
Just about when you think
you're about to break
spring comes a traipsing
all garish and rake.
Read this rhyme
as often as you please
when trouble like the snow
is up to your knees.
Glittering promises
can gutter aft the swell
and leave empty coldness,
a special type of hell.