by John Grey
A hard winter
makes me appreciate the house
I’m growing weary of.
It brings together
the people I love,
the ones I’m truly sick
of being with.
I watch TV shows I hate,
read books I know the endings of,
eat the same things every day,
stare at the calendar
like it’s a photograph of my bitterest enemy.
I get more indifferent kisses in winter,
more hugs from people
who are just trying to stay warm.
And folks cough and sneeze a lot,
A hard winter
is where germs earn their living.
But let’s not forget the fireplace.
or the boiler in the cellar.
A hard winter has me at their mercy.
The fire is fed more than a football lineman.
The clang of radiators
is like the loudest, more ubiquitous
of cash registers.
I’m lumbered with the lumber bill.
The gas bill gives me gas.
But, most of all,
a hard winter to me
means family.
It sounds like a blessing.
But weather means it as a threat.