Juneau Snow
There’s a limit to the beauty one can put up with from snow.
We revel as it flutters down, then can’t wait for it to go.
If the temperatures stay wintry, we mince and skitter and slide.
We folks of age with fragile joints hardly bear to step outside.
Thermometers hit forty—crystal snow becomes gray slush.
Our winter wonderland transforms to a clawing bowl of mush.
As at Christmas, we await the joy of each year’s virgin snow.
As with Lent, we cannot soon enough see the day that snow lets go.