My Thoughts on Winter

You can’t know the prairies,

If you don’t know the winter.

Biting cold and roaring wind,

Realizing minus thirty is chilly

But minus forty-eight,

Now that is cold.

Wading through snow,

Hip deep snow

And loving every minute.

Sitting at a roaring fire, too.

You can’t know the prairies,

If you don’t know the storms.

Watching lightening light up the whole sky,

Waiting for the thunder’s reply

While listening to the rain pound.

The days of storms that last forever,

Leaving chaos in their wake,

A sheen of solid ice,

The fallen trees and power lines.

The new rivers through the fields.

By Liz