Doctor Grandma

I come from the land of Winters,

Relatives, stone-faced, pose for the camera,

Mother, Father,

their children before them,

All standing proud,

not a trace of smile,

the Dutch sailed from Amsterdam to New York harbor,

from there to the great lakes and Chicago,

down to Indiana,

the Dakotas in the west,

This is the land of winters,

Where tulip bulbs snuggle deep into the earth,

While blizzard winds blow above them,

Piling drifts against doors of houses,

and children hope for schools to close,

Children learn to dress for cold,

their fingers, in gloves, still go numb,

Thick socks and boots cover little toes,

Scarves wrap noses and

tie behind the head,

and they go out to play,

Snow suits are part of a child’s wardrobe,

Underwear is long and insulated,

Papers delivered on below-zero mornings,

Hot chocolate awaits icy fingers at home,

A fireplace adds to the warmth of a room,

Leaves turn in September,

fall in October,

Ice covers pond through April or May,

Spring comes late in June,

Tulips rise from their graves,

Summer is HOT

But short-lived,

Where loss of power, means loss of life,

“Snow blindness” is a known disease,

People grit their teeth to face the cold,

And walk into the wind,

Gray clouds form a blanket

for weeks at a time,

like some long and lingering depression,

Survival here brings strength of spirit

Not understood in other lands,

in truth it takes a certain skill,

passed down for generations,

Being from the land of winters,

I have learned,

You can ignore the Cold that surrounds you,

And go about your day,

You can survive the harshness,

And just go out to play,

Lay down in the freezing snow,

Make a Snow Angel.         

C.Black 10-19-2011