“Oh look, it’s snowing – a fun day ahead
Let’s pack in the chores and haul out the sled
If you wake the kids then I’ll prep the van
We’re off to enjoy a white wonderland.”

Done the long undies, the layers of clothes
Thick socks, heavy boots, to save all your toes
Two shirts of flannel, wool sweater on top
Fleece mitts, winter coat, a toque for your mop .

Your back’s to the wind, it still pelts your face
Your footsteps appear, then leave with no trace
You wade through a drift that’s second-floor high
The ice pellets freeze your lid to your eye.

The driveway’s snow filled, it’s well past your knees.
You shovel a bit, and then start to wheeze
While inside the kids just fuss and complain
A parent’s best plans are often a pain.

The windshield is glazed with inch deep of ice
You scrape and you scrape and say things not nice
But try as you might, it’s coated too hard
You fling the damn scraper clear cross the yard.

The van’s rigor stiff, your breath fogs the glass
It’s so bloody cold, the seat frosts your ass
You didn’t plug in – the engine just squeals
Your hands are too numb to pound on the wheel.

At last you head in to thaw out your mouth
And then the phone rings – your friends from down south
“Dad gum, it’s hot here – and how’s where you’re at?”
You pull down the blinds and hiss at the cat.

Copyright Paul Heno November 2013