In February I participated in Laura Shovan’s poetry challenge. I always enjoy this annual event–interesting daily prompts, excellent motivation to write each day, and a community that grows all month. One of the prompts I most enjoyed was from Lisa Vihos: “Write a eulogy for a person, (someone you know, someone from history, or a fictional character), a pet, an object, an idea (democracy perhaps), or even yourself. What’s the story? What needs to be praised? How did she/he/it meet its end? What would you say to she/he/it if you could? Let’s hear your words!”
While I enjoy the Michigan snow in December and January, by February I am ready for spring. And this year, it seemed like spring was about to start by mid-February. That (false) premise inspired my eulogy:
Winter was born prematurely on a frigid day in November.
She blizzarded into existence,
dumping ice and snow,
cracking tree limbs,
leaving towns and cities desolate and dark.
But Winter had a loose grip.
She drifted on a warm breeze and softened,
losing her mounds of snow,
her ice-capped lakes,
her frosty edge.
Winter grew bitter when she heard the celebrations
of those who thought she had perished.
She plowed into the news
with another round
of gray skies and brutal storms.
No one mourned Winter’s passing
when she finally expired.
Her offspring, Slush and Mist,
were last seen springing for a ticket
to ride a cloud and begin a new adventure.
Alas, winter is still sputtering. As I type this, we’re expecting another six inches of snow tonight. But the March sun is strong, and I don’t expect it to last. Eleven more days til the vernal equinox!
And if you are huddled inside waiting for warmer weather, you might as well enjoy some poetry. Heidi has this week’s roundup over at my juicy little universe. Beware, she is celebrating the Odes of March!