Enter, this poem.
Winter, Lite and Deep
We get Winter Lite on our urban street,
Enough snow for "snowball" in the singular.
A celebratory skiff, scraped off the
Stoop for a carefully accumulated wad.
After a Michigan Christmas
The boys sled in the dining room.
Riding the laundry sack about the table,
Keeps the feel of that downhill whoosh.
When we pay our annual respects to Winter Deep.
this link to visit the charming Irene Latham who is our host this week. If you'd like to play along...just write a poem, or post a favorite by some other author and then put a link to your Poetry Friday post in a comment on Irene's post today and you'll join the line-up too!
Credit for the "real" sledding shots goes to Song.