When the snows came outside
and the temperature fell below zero,
she stacked up her folded layers
and began to put them on.
At first, she was pleased;
nearly an expert, she knew
she would be warm. Pride
filled her newfound expertise.
But as the layers went on,
they tightened. Her free flowing
body could not move. Second layer.
Third. “The absurdity!” she muttered.
Inside, she raged at winter.
“No one should have to do this.”
The fourth layer. She laughed.
“Where’s the beach? I want the beach!”
She laughed this way outside,
the whole time walking like a bear.
Arms out, fat steps, bundled with only
her sharp eyes showing laughter…
and rage. No swearing, just a curious
giggle that kept saying:
“I accept my fate. I hate this,
but I will live with it.”
I’ve never seen a happier frown,
and I’ve never seen a madder smile.
We took pictures, sent them to friends.
Those in California just laughed.
Back in Minnesota, an old Norwegian smiles.
“Grumbling is love,” he says to himself.
It’s a good day for this happy
grumbling from snowbank to snowbank.
— Anthony Signorelli
January 2023