by Garth Paul Ukrainetz, Poet of the Blackmud Creek
A monster is lurking behind my closed door
Watching and waiting like winters before
Icicle fangs, massive mouth open wide
Will swallow me whole if I venture outside
My only protection is warm armour suit
Thick socks, mittens, parka, long scarf and a toque
I’ll be eaten alive if I don’t dress with care
O that monster they call Minus 40, beware
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