To Mom in Mississippi-

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
For my Floridian mother, to help her understand the utter and bitter cold in Alaska.

Submitted: May 19, 2008

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Submitted: May 19, 2008

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My nose hairs stand at attention and my eyelashes freeze fast,
almost an instant effect from the first step out of warmth.
I pull my parka close, wrapping it tight around me
trying to shield against icy fingers creeping in.
My movements are slow as I skate out onto the lot.
My toes are as delicate as a ballerina’s in graceful step.
My eyes keep fast to the ground watching for that devious spot
waiting to jump out and pull the rug from under my feet.
But, every now and then, my gaze strays upward to the dancing light
hoping for a heavy-laden cloud to sweep across the navy sky.
Home is a place where cold is just a fleeting chill
easily swept away by a warm autumn breeze.
How can I help you understand the way it feels
to want the air to warm just enough for it to snow?


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