What do I know of winter?
I've become a desert rat;
I've but the snows of memory,
of crafted, wool-filled hats.
I remember Ethan Allen,
maple syrup in the spring;
white that covered mountains,
the cold that was a sting.
The crystal lace of frost,
that decorated glass;
the threat of ice, everywhere,
on sidewalks where you pass.
Cross-country skiing in the fields,
ice-skating on the pond;
numbing temperatures at noon,
(much more wicked at the dawn).
You can take the boy out of,
New England,
But not New England out of,
the boy;
Now, here , in Arizona..
it's the memories I enjoy.