Important note: yesterday, March 31st, St. John’s got 30 cm of snow. April Fools!
You are greeted by those who dread you,
Harbinger of a six-month winter –
But many look up at the flakes like stars,
Catch them on tongues, collect them
Into balls for throwing at lovers.
You melt on cheeks and into hair,
And everywhere people start to hum
Christmas carols softly under breaths.
You are painfully absent.
Your November self was only teasing, and now
You give way to rain and darkened skies.
Children grow impatient, but you are immovable.
We are “dreaming of a white Christmas”,
But that’s not in the plan. Instead:
An enormous blizzard stored up for New Year’s,
To screw up plans with friends.
You are welcomed, mostly
By those who do not drive and rarely shovel.
The rest have not forgiven you for your presence
In driveways and on front steps.
You fall heavily on the city and barely on the ski hill at all,
Because, frankly, it’s not your job
To convenience or delight people –
Not even the ones that like you.
You are now defended only by those
Who enjoy snow sports.
Finally, the hills have opened,
The trails are good for snowshoeing,
Cross-country skis waxed and ready.
To everyone else, you are persona-non-grata,
A thing cursed daily by those commuting
To full-time jobs on slushy streets.
Oh, Snow in March,
You are beginning to melt, and sometimes
A warm breeze flows in from the West
And we breathe it in and think of Spring.
Then, slipping upwards on a snowy hill on March 20th,
I curse Sheila and her Brush for my sliding feet.
But I am deceived – this is only a comb.
The real brush is coming later,
Once snow tires are removed and boots put away.
We’re breaking up.