John F. McCullagh
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
The discredited groundhog, S.I. Chuck, called for an early spring.
Gotham = New York City
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