cold, Poetic Bloomings, Panama 23

 

There’s Cold and There’s COLD

 

I remember

December 28^th 1981,

when my daughter

birthed into a frigid world

of 16 below in Craig Colorado.

 

And then it got really cold,

40 below for two weeks running.

 

That’s when my carpenter husband

jumped into his truck

and the seat cracked,

and he could break off his beard.

 

When the heater malfunctioned

and our baby wore a snowsuit indoors.

 

When a washcloth froze in our sink.

 

When it made it up to 18 degrees,

and I told my mom on the phone

that it felt warm.

 

It’s hard to imagine, now,

sailing on the Caribbean Sea

after two weeks of taking in the sun

at the beach, kayaking and tubing,

and climbing waterfalls in shorts and tee.

 

It’s hard to imagine

as I head to Florida,

then Arizona, then back to Colorado

what it’s going to be like

working at the Nature Center

where sometimes the snow

is measured in feet, not inches.