08 April 2011


In a final
Eruption of frigid defiance
The April clouds threw down
One last burst
Of icy-white crystalline snow
Before giving way
To the earth’s crooked spin
And emptying their last dry breaths
To the skies.

They laid down just enough
Powdery slip-sheen
So that the long yellow bus
Couldn’t gear its four puffy wheels
To the top of my hill.

I’m so glad
My toboggan
Doesn’t have any wheels.

This was born in envy of poets who can craft a beautifully vivid poem in about 10 words. I thought of one stanza that I wanted to be a complete poem. By the time I reached my computer, this is what happened. Also, it snowed a little in my parts yesterday, but not anything that could stick. One more for NaPoWriMo. It'll be posted at Writer's Island.


  1. M.A.S., I enjoyed this and your process notes were quite interesting. I used to love going tobogganing in New York, though I do not miss the snow anymore;)


  2. I was born and raised in New Orleans. I never got on a toboggan until I was 20. Maybe older. This poem was written more from my students' perspective than from my past. Glad you liked it.

  3. I love reading your explanations of your though processes that produce your poetry. I'm not sure I'm that self-aware as I write. Perhaps it's a left brain/right brain thing? I hope we're DONE with snow here!