Walking on a back road
From school
No sign of the sun
Leaden clouds overhead
Fields frozen by deep snow.
A northerly wind from Montreal
A long slog home.
Grey slush underfoot
The wet seeping
Through boots
Cold wet feets.
Another mile to Grandmother’s house.
Where waits
A warm pot belly stove
Dreaming
Pull off boots
Peel off soxes
Stick frozen toes
Under the heat
Aaah
A cup of tea With milk and sugar
Aaah
No more the cold
Grandmother’s house
Maine winter
Only another half-mile
To go
Till
Grandmother’s house
Spring
Another four months away.
Till then
Counting the days.
To April
Flowers
And no snow.
Aaaah
I spent my early childhood in Maine, sledding the winters on Blackstrap Hill. There were really winters then, still are in Fort Kent. Painting by Winslow Homer A New EnglanderFrom school No sign of the sun Leaden clouds overhead Fields frozen by deep snow. A northerly wind from Montreal A long slog home.
Grey slush underfoot Cold wet seeping Through soles Another mile to Grandmother's house.
Where waits The warmth of a pot belly stove Pull off boots Peel off soxes Stick frozen toes Under the heat
Aaah
A cup of tea With milk and sugar
Aaah
No more the cold Grandmother's house Maine winter Only another half-mile To go Till Grandmother's house And Winter Another four months away Till Not winter. Till then Counting the days. To April Flowers And no snow.
I spent my early childhood in Maine, sledding the winters on Blackstrap Hill. There were really winters then, still are in Fort Kent.
Painting by Winslow Homer
A New Englander.
There are two season in Maine. The season of good sledding and the season of bad sledding. - Doctor Frank A Smith, who rode a sled on his visits around Gorham, Maine, when wintah was truly wintah.
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