canadians were damn well built for winter


we're built for
knee-high snow
and black ice under our boots

we walk home in the rain
even when it hardens to hail

and i'm not proud of a lot, 
but ever since Harper got booted out of government, 
i'm finally proud of call myself Canadian again. 

and these days 
we slip on wet sidewalks
and skid our tires on dry concrete

until the storm comes

thick and flurrying and dense
it sweeps over us 
blanketing us

we are not afraid

flights are cancelled 
and people pull out their mittens, 
wrapping suddenly-cold fingers around
Tim Hortons coffee cups

and meaty fists of snow
beat against our doors, 
kicking angry boots at our windows

and we shut the blinds
and pray for white-outs

shuffling feet through piles upon piles, 
digging bare fingers into the cold, 
we are winter
and winter is us

those in winnipeg laugh at us, 
throw their heads back 
full-bodied mirth

we are weak 
yet we are strong

and we teach our children after ourselves, 
tell them that the gusts of snowflake-studded wind
is just father winter rearing his head 
and waving through the glass of our windows

and not to be worried 
when he drags his white-white-white
beard on the ground so far that 
we cannot see the end

and thus we live, 
shots in freezing air, 
whipping at our faces
and staining our cheeks a flushed red

but we're here
and we're staying. 

The End

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