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Lesson In Geography

Monday, March 7, 2011

Poetry with Grant

Saskatchewan Cold

I've rolled rubber over this land before
I've read maps with these names before
I've felt the sun and seen the leaves before
In Saskatchewan

Back track to packing back home in the west
What my back pack was lacking: wool coat and a vest
Boastfully, I nodded at my pile of bags
I mistake I now realize while standing on kegs

For the weather out here is different from home
As I exit the van: freezing cold, straight to the dome
My boogers are tiny shards of broken glass;
I worry about hemorrhoids growing on my ass

But the cure of the cruel cold is not only heat
But the people that live here, you just cannot beat
My beer never empty, coffee and tea never cold
And for that my appreciation will not go untold

As I roll rubber over this land once again
And read maps with these names once again
I do not feel the warmth of the sun and shine
But the warmth from the locals, friends I'm proud to call mine
In the Saskatchewan cold


-Grant McKinnon

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