A Poetic Seasonal Rerun About Winter

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.

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