WAREHOUSE 4100
A WINTERS’ DAY IN THE WAREHOUSE.
I was sitting in the lobby this afternoon and per usual there were people coming and going some stopping to chap for awhile. One chap who recently moved in showed up and he is not to well liked especially by one of the ladies. A week or so ago this friend was sitting down there with a bunch of us and she was eating some chocolates, she asked if she had chocolate on her face and this chap walked over and rubbed his hand rather roughly and forcibly twice, over her face. Not a very gentlemanly thing to do. One does not touch a lady without permission.
Most days around here are so quiet one would think you were in a mortuary. Damn boring at times. Then there are the days when it gets a bit noisy with the chatter and laughter. Those days are the best. Especially the times that I am the butt of the conversation or joke. I must admit I have walked eyes wide open into a few good zingers. Like I’ve said time and again if you can’t laugh at yourself you might as well roll over and pull the sod on top of you. It is quieter it seems in the doldrums of winter when the sky is grey and the temp crashes. When it snows it can be quiet pretty and quiet but like most of us older folk we end up hating the stuff. Where we are located the wind comes most from the west and north and it can have a bitter edge to it taking the breath away and leaving you panting. When it is in the low minus it isn’t too bad if there is no wind but when old Boreas starts to huff and puff it gets dangerously cold at times.
Maybe the following will describe it better……
WINTER
Arctic wind roaring south
Across the barren shield
Driving snow and ice before
Heralding winters’ birth.
Trees stand stark
Against the sky
Denuded of their leaves
Branches rattle, bend
Then break weighted
By the ice.
Snow drifts high
Against the boles
Smothering all beneath
In dens and lairs
The creatures burrow
Their sleep disturbed the least.
The clouds above an angry grey
Move on towards the south
Soon farms and towns
Will feel the blast from
Boreas’ icy mouth
The streams and rivers
From water turn
To icy paths and
Snow lies deep
In serried dunes
A desert born in snow
D. McArthur
I wrote that 7 or 8 years ago when I was in my poetry phase. When I posted it on a chat site I once belong to it was nicely received with many compliments coming my way. Felt good that our American Cousins rather enjoyed it.
Well we still have 68 days until the official start of spring. Of course this doesn’t mean the weather will immediately turn warm. No that usually takes a few weeks more. Spring when it finally shows its’ face will be greatly appreciated for that means in 92 more days the summer will arrive and we will spend the next 3 months complaining how bloody hot and humid it is. Hey! As seniors it our right to complain it comes with the territory.