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Frigid | |
| The Mother | Press for poem |
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| One
day... |
| blends into the next with snow and more snow, not enough to stop life here, but enough to create mischief in our yard. My car -- the old one -- sits unused, door gaskets frozen against their frames. We argue over who will not drive this day. Today and yesterday brought a more immediate paralysis by ice. I wrote this poem without malice or picque. It is my gentle winter poem, dedicated to members (both genders) of the US Postal Service. |