Looking Over My Shoulder at Winter
The wet stuff.
Lumpy rain.
The ‘S’ word.
Or, as I like to call it,
‘that white shit’
litters the parking lot.
The first warning shot of winter has been fired.
We pick our way
through slush.
Bow our heads
before sleet.
Refuse to wear
our winter boots.
‘This will be gone by the weekend’ we declare.
And it will be.
The sun will shine
and the snow will melt.
But the wooly gauntlet
has been thrown down
making it hard to enjoy
what is left of a Peace Country Autumn.
#292
Linda Studley 