A Curmudgeon's Ode to Winter

By W.E. Dion, Terryville

Sing, oh sing, for winter's king—

Pluck the lute and stroke the spinet,

Make a joyful noise and sing,

Only don't include me in it.

Raise your grog and spirits high,

Lift your glasses to the sky.

Voices join in merry shout,

Only, please, include me out.

Scrape the windshield, pick the lock,

Put the shifter in reverse,

Spin those new all-weather tires.

Yours is not to whine or curse!

Skid along on country roads,

Let the whirling wheels run free,

Care not whither you are headed,

Stopping when you hit the tree!

Bears are smart, more so than humans,

Flowers wait till spring comes round.

Wake me when the snowdrops bravely

Thrust their heads above the ground.

Take your skis and your toboggan

To the mountain's reckless slope.

I'll be waiting by the fireside,

where I've bravely learned to cope.

Hail, all hail to winter's issue—

Hail the sleet, the slush, the snow.

All that stuff won't last a second

When I tell it where to go!

All’s not lost. The way God planned it,

Seasons alternate, you know.

Summer's rain to us awarded

One-for-one with winter's snow.

When at last the Good Lord calls me,

Hope it happens in the fall

So I’ll get an extra summer—

Lose one winter, and that's all.