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Journal Writing Project-Matt Ruen


Fri, Nov 22nd, 2002
Posted in Columnists

This recent Tuesday, at the gloaming hour,I sat me down, a sad lament to write.This poem unfolded like a budding flowír,As I did long for frosty snow so white.

This drear month past weíve had small part of cold,And moisture more of rain than snow has come,Yet even that in tiny bits. All told,The snow and rain do equal no great sum.

You see, Iím diffírent than most other folk,I greatly like the winter monthsóno lieó(Please donít call me a strange or oddball bloke)In these next stanzas I shall tell you why.

Youíll think it odd, but very first of all,ĎTis the warm months of summer I dislike.And though I mind not either spring or fall,Every winter my heartís glad joy will spike.

For truth, in the summer, thereís so many bugsWho in noisy clouds do my face fly round,Or, like the vile mosquito, noxious lugs,Hover in my ear with keening sound.

Too, the summerís heat I do not like best.Humidity is evil. Muggy airMakes me feel Iím locked inside a chest.For these reasons twain, summer be not fair.

Yet winter, such an oft revilťd time,To me, is more worthy than summerís gold.The snow and wind and ice of northern climeAre friends to me, for in my veins runs cold.

By far, the greatest part is always snow.Great slowly drifting dunes of frozen white.With moon upon it, all does seem aglow,As if the world were made of silver light.

Upon the mantle of a fresh snow-stormWith high velocity downhill I fly,My sled cuts through the snow in perfect formUntil I crash, and look up at the sky.

Good sledding is truly a joy of lifeThe feel of air whistling past the skin.Yet caution use, in places with trees rifeOr you, like me one time, might bruise each shin.

Still, if sledding be not the fun you wish,Thereís pastimes plenty in the cold outside,Like snowball throwing, or through ice to fish,Or snowmobiling, or snowshoes so wide.

Winter, though, is more than snow. Think of iceóSolid water, so cold, and slippery too.To skate on this I know is very nice,Just stay on thick; on thin you might fall through.

With ice and snow comes what Iíve not yet told.Most people view it as a foe quite bad.This deadly thing of which I speak is cold,Which has some aspects that do make me glad.

To deeply take of chilly air a breath,Will make most everyone feel full alive.At the same time, to germs it brings swift death;At least, Iíve found it helps not sickness thrive.

Winterís blessings fall not just outside:When one enters a house all filled with light,Perhaps after a long and fast sled ride,ĎTis great to stand in front of fire bright.

See, winterís great. So whyís this a lament?This just past year, winterís full blast we missed.And now, with global warming, smokestack sent,I fear no more will snow banks reach my wrist.

And now, Novemberís all but done and gone,No snowfall thick does blanket my front lawn.

And so, to source of snow, I call out thus:"I miss you winter, please come back to us."

Matt Ruen is a student at Lanesboro High School.The Journal Writing Project focuses on the writing of area young people.

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