An Inconvenient Sleet Poem by John F. McCullagh

I hear the scrape of steel on concrete

as neighbors struggle with the cold and wet.

General Winter and his storm troops

aren’t finished with us yet.



If we get these cars unburied

the icy roads still are a threat

People shivering at the bus stop

believe mass transit their best bet.



The airports closed, the planes are grounded

Transportation can’t be found

Here and there a bus is moving

Crawling around Gotham town



Staten Island Chuck is freezing

In his burrow underground

Well he should hide, that lying rodent.

I’d whack that mole could he be found.



Al Gore, in a piece of fiction,

Spoke of unremitting heat

I truly hope his butt is buried

Beneath this inconvenient sleet




Note


The discredited groundhog, S.I. Chuck, called for an early spring.

Gotham = New York City