Alberta Clipper

Mom and me. Somewhere in Northern Montana about 1950

An Alberta Clipper is rollin’ on in

 blizzard conditions before it will end.

I’m in a dither, and I’m gonna’ shiver

 if I don’t go thither, maybe I’ll wither.

Johnnie Café, where the coffee is hot,

 a Quarter a cup, fresh from the pot.

A Wolverine parka hangs on a rack,

 I could take it and not give it back.

Work is shut down, nuthin’ to do,

 watchin’ my fingers start to turn blue.

My nose and my toes, are already froze,

 a cold Norther blows, a-drivin’ the snows.

There’s snow all around, it covers the ground,

 with each little bound, a snow crunchin’ sound.

The roads are frozen, icy and black,

 worst winter ever, an actual fact.

A motorist skids off of the road,

 he’ll wait an hour before he gets towed.

My car won’t start, the battery is dead,

 maybe I need a horse and a sled.

Still, all in all, it’s a beautiful sight,

 a hot buttered rum will make it all right.

LDT May 7, ‘22

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Published by thillld

Retired. History Buff. Amateur Poet

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