C.K. discusses winter’s woes
The snowy drifts, the icy floes
The pains each northern dweller knows
In poetry (not prose).

The Walrus Days of Winter

By Christopher Kent

The end of January’s here; as always, I feel weary
The days are short, the nights are long, it’s cold and bleak and dreary
Compared to my sweet memories of warm “dog days” of summer
These cold and cloudy winter days are definitely a bummer
Now icicles are hanging from the branches and the gutters
Sometimes at night the wind will howl, while other times it mutters
I know it’s mother nature’s fault, though I cannot fingerprint her
It happens this time every year—the walrus days of winter.

There’s ice on steps and sidewalk, all the waving trees are bare
Winter birds are at the feeder, blowing snow gets in my hair
I shovel every other day as the piles I make grow higher
And though I say to passers-by “Good day!” I am a liar.
A snowplow pushes down the street with much ado and rumbling
I try to clear the roof of snow to keep the house from crumbling
A trashcan hurtles down the street as fast as any sprinter
Carried by the bitter winds of the walrus days of winter

Now I admit, some folks are thrilled by all this winter cold
I’m sure it helps if you like to ski, or if you’re 10 years old
It seems like every week another snowstorm passes through
Forcing me to shovel drifts until my hands turn blue
Sometimes I try to take a walk on days when it’s not snowing
To get relief from cabin fever, though the wind’s still blowing
With luck the sun breaks through; I trudge through drifts, a snow-blind squinter;
Trying hard to make the best of the walrus days of winter

It’s not so hard to understand why folks seek warmer climes
And I confess I get depressed up here from time to time
When I was just a kid I’d build a snowman or go sledding
These days I stay inside instead and add blankets to the bedding.
I have to go out now and then, through snow the sky’s delivering
To bring in firewood for the stove that warms me when I’m shivering
Then I can read beside the fire ‘til it’s just a glowing cinder
Hoping spring will soon arrive
And find me very much alive
And I can say, Yes, I survived
The walrus days of winter.

Copyright 2015 by Christopher Kent, all rights reserved.