Tenacious leaves Clinging still Showing off Their shiny underbelly Reminding me That fall is all but finished And Winter is on its way
Winter Walk
Sun High Air Crisp Snow Sparkles (and crunches and bites) And No One Has Gone Here Before
Your Hands
Your hands Lined with grease and strong with hard work Warm my screaming fingers and toes Protesting that I stayed too long on the ice Who can come in? On a perfect Saskatchewan winter night Ice Cold Clear Sky Skates scraping We are magical and powerful And we skate and skate till we can’t feel our fingers and toes anymore And then the rink shack beckons us with it’s Warm fire and Smell of wet wool and Export A cigarettes and Black rubber mats and Your hands.
Colleen R. Jantzen 