Poem By Theodora (Theo) Onken
I do remember November...
It's cool, sharp call,
The cool breeze had all but disappeared,
But the wind, it came, upon us all.
Bundled up with our ascots...
Leather gloves for our hands,
Long woolen leggings to keep them warm,
And fur lined suede boots, on which to stand.
A flurry or two is cast for the morrow...
With winds gusting, to perhaps thirty-five,
Wind chill factor of fifteen,
With a temperature, thatr could freeze a cows hide.
Ice cicle formations begin to dangle...
Hanging as decorations from midnight eaves,
The roof believes that they are ornaments,
For at christmas time, they are well received.
The sidewalks are a dangerous peril...
As the black ice, begins to form,
One mistep, without good balance,
And a broken hip, could be borne!
Enough, i say enough...
Of this folly, of ice winter chill,
Pass it along to some balmy tropic isle,
Because of this frost, we've had our fill.
Premature Winters always trouble...
Coming too early, and lasting, way too long,
Never giving Fall a chance to shine her Orange,
Or give a break, for an early, Spring Bird Song!