- For Gregory <br /> <br /> <br />Winter's final fury <br />unleashed itself <br />last night, <br /> <br />Today, St. John's, lies buried <br />in a blustering blizzard: <br />yes, winter's final fury <br />is bestowed this time <br />on you and yours, <br />my friend. <br /> <br />As Newfoundlanders <br />wake today to their cars <br />all humped in white, <br />hurricanes howling <br />through snow-clogged <br />streets with all their <br />awful might - <br />and men, womenfolk <br />and children <br />grit their teeth and get <br />their shovels out... <br /> <br />Here in Montréal, <br />it is uncharacteristically <br />balmy and mild <br />as I start my day <br />driving on clean <br />snow-scooped roads, <br />bright light <br />exploding <br />around me, <br />under sunny, azure skies. <br /> <br />There is no price tag <br />for the simple joy I felt <br />this Sunday afternoon; <br />thinking of your vicious <br />winter storm, <br />I said a prayer or two <br />for you, my friend. <br /> <br />(Transfiguration Sunday, <br />February 26th,2006) <br /> <br />(Sixty centimeters of snow <br />fell in St. John's, Newfoundland <br />on this date) <br /> <br />(Senneville, Québec, Canada)<br /><br />Philippa Lane<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/blizzard-in-st-john-s/
