On the third day of my Twelve Days of Blogging, I’m going to offer you a rerun with new content. I hadn’t planned on dredging up this poem from 2017 filled with my winter ire. And I’m not talking about winter irie, which is a good thing.
Yah, mon. I wish everyone an Irie Xmas in Jamaica.
The reason I resurrected the poem is that I’m spitting-venom mad at winter. As someone who suffers from seasonal depression due to lack of light, I always happily celebrate the Winter Solstice. The days are getting longer now. Except this solstice pissed me off. I expected to wake up this morning to an early dawn. Nope, Still dark and cloudy.
And speaking of cloudy, I missed seeing the Jupiter-Saturn celestial convergence. If we had a clear night sky, I am sure I would have been one of many gathered on the local sled hill gazing at the heavens to see this once-in-a-lifetime astronomical event. Nope. Nothing but clouds. And I had this joke all ready to spring on my neighbors …
Me: I see Jupiter and Saturn very clearly, but how can I see Uranus?
Neighbor: *laughs hysterically*
Winter cold is headed our way tomorrow. Time to rewind back to 2017 when I unleashed my wrath upon winter with this poem (updated & expanded for 2020).
From the depths of Hell
Come days so short.
Icy silence meets
Man’s retort.
A plaintive cry and
Desperate plea,
For a few more minutes
Of sun to see.
But it will not be
On these short days,
As I yearn for light
Through the cloudy haze.
Add in COVID and I’m ready to say,
Hey winter, piss off straightaway.
Jim Flanigan Looks at the World 