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A Crotchety Recitation of Some Things I Cherish
William M. Tarnowski
What shall I write about winter that has not been written before?
I could write of foot-tracks in fresh-fallen snow. Good Lord, what treacly bore!
No. Let us approach it differently; let's leave Mel's chestnuts to burn.
Take a shivery saunter with me, and I can assure you, you'll learn
Every crosswalk is sodden with slush, thus only the supple can pass;
Return the next day when the temperature's fallen and you may wind up on your ass!
In taking a stroll through the South End on near every door you will eye
Nice Christmas wreaths and garlands, and many hang there 'til July.
Boots, galoshes, mittens, gloves, and hats of every kind.
Overcoats and anoraks and parkas, some fur-lined.
Squirrels in the Public Garden squabble over an acorn.
The glacial gusts in Copley Square will mak you feel you're airborne.
Overheated subway cars and underheated stations
None but Ekimos come here for their winter vacations.
Monday it snows, the traffic's a fright, but oh, how lovely and clean.
And Wednesday arrives, you tip-toe outside; oh my, what a different scene:
Snow which was white has now become gray and is streaky with dull yellow stains.
So, as a stoic Bostonian chap, I'll wait the warm vernal rains.