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 …
I was in a rhyming, but bad mood about Trump knowing about Russian bounties on American soldiers’ heads as I walked this morning. The only thing that kept me from screaming was that I was also picking berries as I walked. Anyway, here it is …
The poem is a pic, so feel free to save and share.
This is the worst day of the year for me. It is because of how short the amount of daylight is today. I know, tomorrow on the Winter Solstice is actually shorter when it comes to daylight, but that is a day when I can celebrate that henceforth the days will start to lengthen until that damn Summer Solstice. So today I weep, gnash my teeth, rend my garments asunder (really a bad idea when it is cold out), and am generally a sullen mess. The bottom line is that nobody can tell the difference in me from a typical day. However, it has been sunny today, so that has helped my mood. Before the sun got off its lazy ass and rose this morning, I was already out briskly walking while I wrote this poem about the dearth of daylight today.