Tag Archives: winter

Farewell Summer

An ice cream truck is parked along Stanwix Street in Rome. It’s the same block where I lived for part of my youth.

Farewell Summer (With Apologies to Ray Bradbury)

The death of summer—
sadness reigns
as the season wanes.

No more soft-serve
ice cream cones,
lakeside walks,
baseball games and
backyard cookouts.

Late August
blues ensue,
giving way to the
birth of autumn.

And you know
what comes next.

Soon Mother Nature
pulls Old Man Winter
down from the attic,
sharpens his dentures
and deprives him of food—

until she’s ready
to set him loose
on the world again.

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Poems for January

Plastic bag in tree.

Bag in the Breeze

Thursday morning, 9:47 a.m.
White airy clouds
painted against a pale blue sky.
Whipping sounds like
baseball cards spinning in bicycle spokes
call out to pedestrians
moving on the salt-crusted sidewalk.
A medical helicopter zips overhead.
You look up as it flies out of sight.
And with your head still raised,
you spot a plastic shopping bag
tangled on a leafless branch,
stuck at the top of a tree,
flapping in the breeze.
The bag waves its white flag
in an overture of surrender,
hinting at submission to the grip of winter,
while struggling to break loose,
straining to be released,
and waiting for a new wind to set it free.

©2017 Francis DiClemente
(Sidewalk Stories, Kelsay Books)

Winter sunrise. Photo by Francis DiClemente.

On Leaving Syracuse

The grass may not
be greener elsewhere,
but at least
it won’t be
covered with snow.

My son, Colin, stomping in the snow while waiting for the bus. Photo by Francis DiClemente.

This poem is pure fiction, but it arose out of a parent’s fear of losing a child.

Sitting by the Fire in Winter

I sit with my grief.
I wrap it around myself
like an overcoat,
while staring at the
embers of the fire,
holding my dead son’s
ski jacket close to my nose,
and remembering his
cold, little hands,
wet socks,
and the smell of his
sweaty head in winter.

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Seasonal Transition

There’s a feeling of spring in Central New York as temperatures have warmed up and snow piles have receded. Here are some recent photos documenting the transitional period.

Snow pile in downtown Syracuse.

This denuded patch of land along Erie Boulevard East reminded me of a plain in Nebraska.

Best Time of the Year

Snow finally
giving way
to grass
in Syracuse.

Cold mornings,
but temps
climbing
above 40.

March Madness,
Lenten fish fries
and the crack
of the bat.

Yippee …
it looks like
we’ve survived
another winter.

But never forget—
in Syracuse
a lake-effect blast
can still chase away
the Easter Bunny
and send the Moms
scurrying to their closets
to retrieve sweaters
on Mother’s Day.

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Winter Blast Poems

With Central New York under a Lake Effect Snow Warning and temperatures set to plummet in the next few days, I am sharing some of my winter-themed poems, along with some recent photos.

Winter Evening

Night—streetlights flicker.
Snow falls softly on sidewalks.
Crews plow the streets clean.

Contrast

Feathers replace leaves
In the naked trees
Looming above Genesee Street,
As flocks of crows arrive to
Take their repose and roost for the night,
The clumps of birds stretching for blocks,
A curtain of black set against
The landscape bleached white by
Fresh-fallen snow and layers of rock salt.

Dreaming of Lemon Trees (Finishing Line Press, 2019)

Golden State

In California, the sun is shining.
In Syracuse, snow is falling.
I want to defrost my toes
by burying them in the sand
at Santa Monica Beach—
watch the waves crashing ashore,
hear the seagulls squawking
and smell the salty air.

But I’m pulled out
of this reverie
by the sound of a
shovel blade
striking pavement
and exhaust fumes
entering my nostrils,
bringing me back to the reality
of a Central New York
scene I can’t escape.

I get in the car and
the warm air from the
heater smacks me in the face
as I scan the FM radio stations,
hoping to come across
the Mamas and the Papas
singing “California Dreamin’.”
That’s as close as I’ll get
to the Golden State
on such a winter’s day.

Outward Arrangements: Poems (independently published, 2021)

Winter Walk

It takes one fall
on the icy sidewalk
for your life to be ruined.
That’s right, just one tumble—
arms flailing,
legs scissoring in the air,
back parallel to the ground,
eyes looking up at a gray sky
unable to intervene—
in a brief suspended
moment before wham—
skull meets ground and blackness ensues.

Traumatic brain injury follows,
and you slip into a coma.
Your family huddles bedside,
waiting for you to rouse,
to wake up and rejoin the living,
like a grizzly bear stepping out
of its den after hibernation.

If you do come out of it
with some brain activity intact,
you may be a shell—withering
in a long-term nursing home.
And while you exist inside,
the costs mount for your family,
and the world outside your window
drags on, unaware of your predicament.
All this because some ice tripped you up.

So don’t be surprised if you see me
walking gingerly on the
glassy surface of the sidewalk,
digging my heels into a
pile of rock salt near the curb,
spreading it around on my soles,
strapping on a pair of
Yaktrax over my boots,
or cutting across the snow-covered lawns.

I guess I don’t mind dying,
or being knocked unconscious,
but I would feel awfully foolish
if a patch of frozen moisture does me in.

Sidewalk Stories (Kelsay Books, 2017)

How to Survive Winter in Syracuse

The only way to survive
a Syracuse winter
is to think of the snow
as a friend and not a foe.

When you scrape the ice
crusted on your windshield
and the snow clogs the streets,
when your tires spin,
or your car veers off the road—
regarding the snow
as a friend and not a foe
will help you to tolerate the season.

Even when the snow lashes
your face as it blows sideways,
or frozen clumps melt inside your boots,
making your feet cold and damp,
you must remember to
view the snow as a friend instead of a foe.

And what a friend … a friend that keeps on
giving and giving and giving
six months out of the year.
To which I say:
Thank you, my dear friend,
but I don’t need your generosity.

Outward Arrangements: Poems (independently published, 2021)

Stranded in Syracuse

In a blizzard like this, you can’t determine gender.
People are just stooped figures,
black forms trudging through the heavy, wet snow,
swallowed by the maw of the storm.

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A Poem for Autumn

Now that we’re well into October, I’ve broken out the winter coat and put rock salt and shovels in the tool shed. While I love the light and colors of autumn, the change of season ushers in a feeling of trepidation. Fall to me is more than playoff baseball, apple fritters, and pumpkin-spiced coffee (or lattes or whatever other beverages they doctor with pumpkin spice).

Genesee Street Tree. Photo by Francis DiClemente.

Autumn is a time of preparation for yet another Central New York winter, which means heavy coats and boots, shoveling and salting, and trying to avoid slipping and shattering a hip.

With these thoughts heavy on my mind, I discovered an autumn-themed poem written by Emily Brontë. Something about the words made me think I could hear Robert Smith of The Cure singing them as lyrics to a song. And speaking of music: I will listen to the album October by U2 from start to finish to deepen my autumn mood.

Emily Brontë by Patrick Branwell Brontë

Fall, leaves, fall

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night’s decay
Ushers in a drearier day.

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Spring Frame of Mind

With today marking the first day of spring, I thought I would share some poems reflecting the start of the season—even though here in Central New York, the calendar can lie, and winter weather can appear well past Easter.

Melting snow pile. Copyright Francis DiClemente, 2024.

I love this transition period when temperatures have warmed slightly, the ground loses snow cover (for the most part), but trees haven’t bloomed yet, and it’s still cold enough to wear a hat and gloves. It’s the promise of another spring, another summer, and the realization that I’ve survived another winter.

Dreaming of Spring

In the middle of winter
I dreamed trees were blooming.
I was given another season of life,
another chance to keep breathing.

Winter Away

While I loathe the
wind, cold and snow
winter imparts,

I’m always sad
when spring comes
and the chill
in the air departs.

With winter leaving,
it’s like I’m losing
a friend at the end
of the season.

Boy in the Window

Rain pounds the sidewalk.
Wind swirls. Tree limbs scrape window.
Toddler looks and waves.

Hatless

A warm morning.
First day
of the year
without a
winter hat.
These old,
gray hairs
soaking up
the sunlight.

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Tree on the Horizon

I know winter is not over yet, but my favorite time of the year is snowmelt season in Syracuse. A blanket of white still covers the ground, but the roads are mostly clear. I have probably jinxed us with a big lake-effect mess in the near future.

I like how the trees remain stoic with their naked branches (prior to blooming in spring). I captured this photo while traversing through my neighborhood on my Sunday walk.

Tree on the Horizon. Photo by Francis DiClemente.

March is filled with good things. We have Lenten fish fry specials and St. Patrick’s Day. And I think it’s the best time of year for sports fans. The NCAA basketball tournament, NHL and NBA playoffs, and the start of the MLB season all loom on the horizon. So I will enjoy these March days as we get ready to transition from winter to spring.

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Spring Snow: The Last Hurrah

My son Colin stomping in the snow while waiting for the bus. Photo by Francis DiClemente.

A few inches of heavy, lake-effect snow fell over central New York Tuesday morning. Despite the late April occurrence, I didn’t fret the spring storm. I felt invigorated walking to work, as the temperatures hovered near thirty, and I did not need to brush off the car or contend with clogged traffic.

Here are some photos I captured along the way.

Plants covered with snow. Photo by Francis DiClemente.

Park bench covered by snow. Photo by Francis DiClemente.

Tree branches covered with snow. Photo by Francis DiClemente.

Statue in Firefighter’s Memorial Park in Syracuse. Photo by Francis DiClemente.

And I’ll end with a poem that will be relevant when warmer temperatures return and spring kicks into high gear.

Winter Away

While I loathe the
wind, cold and snow
winter imparts,

I’m always sad
when spring comes
and the chill
in the air departs.

With winter leaving,
it’s like I’m losing
a friend at the end
of the season.

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Post-COVID Winter Walk

I went out for my first real walk since testing positive for COVID, after completing the required isolation.

Branches, sky and building. Photo by Francis DiClemente.

I’m still not at 100 percent, but on this Sunday I was grateful for the combination of sun, sky, snow, air in lungs and limbs moving freely. I’m also thankful I didn’t slip and fall on the sidewalks packed down with ice and snow, resembling a Lake Placid luge track. I’m not taking any days or moments for granted.

A stick in the snow. Photo by Francis DiClemente.

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