Wild Days on the “Crick”

Wintry winds jist blow an’ screech

Down the long an’ narrer reach

‘Twixt “Mt. Tom” an’ “Otter p’int”,

Thrashin’ hemlocks out o’ j’int,

Drivin’ ducks an’ geese afar

Where the sheltered places are;

“Lizzard Crick” on days like these.

Ain’t no furnace, ef you please.

Turkles they hev left the logs,

Bunkin’ deep down in the bogs;

Not a single sign uv life

Where in summer all was rife.

Frogs hev burrered, cold an’ glum,

with their frosty “jug o’ rum”;

Muskrats in the medders too,

Each one deep in his igloo.

“Lizard Crick” in summer time

Is a poet’s jeweled rhyme,

When the lazy ripples run,

Dancin’ in the golden sun.

But, O, Lordy, days like these

She’s no furnace, if you please,

An’ we dodge her icy ways

Settin’ by the hick’ry blaze.

Nov. 22, ‘09