Winter Poem

  Canadian Winter

        by Jelaluddin Rumi

Sometimes it feels like
it is always winter here
In our "snowy north"
as others call it
while they ask us, with sly smiles,
if we live in igloos, and use dogsleds
to get around.

I could move, I suppose.
Someplace warm, where
I could grow
Morning Glories instead of Marigolds
And not have to read about hockey
eight months of the year.

But here, there is a breathless anticipation
of the seasons change.
We are all watchful eyes
for the first buds on trees,
And the last of the ice
flowing away down the river.

So I think I will stay
In my "snowy north".
Where the hoarfrost on the trees stands out
so clear against the cold air
it makes your heart hurt just to look at them
And the borealis dance over the fields in May
Calling me to remember
the joyous flow of life.