Depths of Winter

A poem (Based on a joke my Dad likes to tell).

For Tuesday.

Because . . .

He went out as the morning sun,

Made new snow glisten bright.

The world was still, the air was cold

The storm passed with the night.

He carefully prepared his mount

With blankets and with tack,

The snow had stopped, the wind had died

He had cattle now to check.

The two of them moved carefully

Into the world of white.

Their breath streamed out behind them

Making clouds in morning light.

But it wasn’t long before he stopped

And looked about him there.

Then pulled his ‘cell phone from his coat

And dialled his wife with care.

“Hi, Hon!” he said with chatt’ring teeth,

Just thought I’d give a call,

To let you know I’m heading back,

Things don’t look good at all.”

“The snow out here’s too deep,” he said.

“It’s cold and wet, I’ve found.

It’s reached the tops of both my boots

It’s hard to get around.”

His puzzled wife said to her man.

“Your boot tops aren’t tall.

“I don’t see how a drift that deep

Could hamper you at all.”

Her husband frowned, “They don’t,” he said.

“Well, they don’t bother me.

But this poor horse I’m sitting on.

He simply cannot see.”

Dad in winter . . .