In the tropics
the people know
life is languid:
there is no snow.
…
Moving, working,
and thinking: slow.
What’s the hurry?
It will not snow.
…
Ice is only
inside the drinks;
hockey players
must go to rinks.
…
Skating, sledding,
and snowman fun–
all is elsewhere.
Icicles: none.
…
Brown ground: dirty,
no change in sight;
nothing ever
becomes all white.
…
Bugs and kudzu
will swarm and grow:
never winter,
no saving snow…
– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, January 1, 2013
Note from Views from the Edge:
Steve with kite in snow
Prayers on New Year’s Day for 2013 “saving snow” in languid-no-change-in- sight D.C. and the hinterlands.
Views from the Edge 
Thank you for letting me escape Michigan for a moment. This is a wonderful poem!
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Thanks for coming all the way from Michigan!
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I live in a place where it doesn’t snow at all, but we have plenty of heat, hard dirt and rocks pretending to be grass. Sigh. Beautiful poem, btw:)
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Devlin, Glad you liked the poem. Where are your heat, hard dirt and rocks…or is it better left unsaid? Thanks for coming by.
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Reblogged this on yasniger and commented:
And so dusty too
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Thanks for re-blogging this, Yasinger. Steve will be proud. Yes…and dusty too. Gordon
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Glad I did my bit to foster the further appreciation of a splendid piece of work.
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