⠀⠀⠀⠀A woman stomping through several feet of snow
⠀⠀⠀⠀couldn’t ask for better than the Sorel® boots
⠀⠀⠀⠀I owned when we still called the northeast home.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Joan of Arctic™ they were were called. Kept
⠀⠀⠀⠀my toes dry and toasty against winter’s worst.
⠀⠀⠀⠀I’d picture Saint Joan stomping out to battle.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Waterproof from hard rubber sole to fur cuff,
⠀⠀⠀⠀they were as trustworthy as the truest friend,
⠀⠀⠀⠀standing up for me against the wildest assault.
⠀⠀⠀⠀In Houston, sure, I could still be wearing mine
⠀⠀⠀⠀if I wanted to look like Joan hanging on to hers
⠀⠀⠀⠀all the way to the fiery end. I made a donation.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Maggie tells me of a friend of ours who walked
⠀⠀⠀⠀Manhattan winter streets with his bare feet
⠀⠀⠀⠀clad only in sandals. I’ll have to give that a try
⠀⠀⠀⠀when I get back hearing the voices of the north.