Let it Snow

The worst winter ever, nineteen sixty-three,
my son  was born.
Disaster struck,
snow buried the truck
bringing coal to me,
blocked the lane for the next two months –
power cuts didn’t help.
How do you keep a baby warm
in minus twenty-three?
Take baby and pram into the woods
as they did in days of old.
Twigs and sticks were not much good
until the search struck gold:
a telegraph pole, felled near the path
sawn on the spot into bite-sized chunks,
piled on the pram, dragged home.

.At dVerse they’re writing about winter and snow.  My memory is of a winter rather more dramatic than my quickly-written verse shows.