Stuck in bad weather in December. |
As cold December delivers whipping winds and snow, we’re stranded in Fargo with friends. Miles to go before this unintended stop, December’s onslaught of gelid battery and wintry wild, distraught we hunker down beneath low with our newfound friends as this symphony of Arctic swirl skirls and wends his way, unconcerned to us humble hominids astir beneath his prowl, eager only for sting and whirr from barometric crash, his unrelenting pierce of airborne ice on tender countenance, so fierce is the month’s maiden march one monumental storm! We touch imaginary ferns and tepid streams encased within our new sanctuary, our dreams of making Winnipeg on time now dashed, the cold of He who prowls like hunger raining snow--how bold this force profoundly ravaging the meek of spring, urging with icepicks and stilettos that sting to receive our new sanctuary with great haste-- cold was December’s flavor--outside we had a taste and realized the taste was strong, and thus we fled so now like refugees from out we wait instead inside for Him to rustle pines and prod the crows or freeze the bark on willow trees, while friends so kind serve us hot tea as we sit back with peace of mind. 24 Lines Writer’s Cramp 12-14-19 |