Barbara Purdy wrote this poem for the Winter 1963 issue of Exile. After days out in the summer sun, I hope some of you Denisonians are ready for the winter and snow!
Upon Remembering the Once-Novelty of Icicles
Ten years have passed since
Crouching under a bench
With a vagabond playmate
Was well worth soapsuds on the tongue
And a low browed mother.
But yet how well I remember
That day of snow and tomato soup
Much more than today’s
Rain and orange juice.
Maybe the difference
Is that I’ve lost my taste for icicles —
They’re old hat now.