WINTER SONG
As we unfreeze our rosy faces
We envy friends in warmer places,
Though we are wont to wish them well,
Even those toasting toes in hell.
We feast on heavy meat, creamed peas,
Fried potatoes, sauce, and pasta,
Roast extra garlic, steam our teas,
Hug our dreams of rose and hosta.
Make up a rhyme for pungent onion,
Recall those times when we were happy,
Know we’re stuck with chilblain, bunion,
Till the trees are leafed and sappy.
— This poem appears in the December 31 issue of the print National Review.