Patricia Fleming

Lizzie was a gator wrestler,
bred on Louisiana's swamps.
Her daddy taught her how to hunt,
she was all the son a man could want.

She had the best aim in the parish,
a true legend in those parts.
She was known to have the sharpest eye
and the bravest, honest heart.

When hunting season rolled around
there was no doubt where she would be,
in her airboat on the fetid swamp
with her rifle on her knee.

She'd hang her putrid chicken bait
in all her favorite spots
and by nightfall she'd meander back
with the load of gators that she caught.

Yes, Lizzie was a tough ole broad
who had little time to play.
She had to make her quota
to earn her righteous pay.

She lived a rather lonely life,
a safe distance from the fray.
While her dirty nails and gritty smell
kept any suiters far away.

But then she'd sit upon her porch
in sultry evenings on the bayou
and reminisce about her Noah
who was once her love so true.

But Noah finally called it quits
and let dear, sweet Lizzie go,
when in response to his proposal
she returned a sorry, "No."

But Lizzie claimed no sad regrets.
This was the life that Lizzie chose.
It was the life that she was good at,
the only life she'd ever known.

So, from August to November
her belly was on fire
hunting down the biggest gators
in the vast and muddy mire.

She went toe to toe with all the men
who claimed to be the best.
But in the end, they all agreed
she far out-hunted all the rest.

But in secret Lizzie had her dreams.
She'd spent too much time alone
and longed to have a soul mate
to share her bayou home.

She was still a woman in her soul
and craved some virile company,
catching gators was quite thrilling
but to snare a man served other needs

Lizzie saw that days were rushing by
and she was running out of time
and her need for hunting gators
was not all that filled her mind.

So, Lizzie let her gators go
and decided to retire
and began her search for the perfect mate
to set her heart on fire.

And then it came to pass that Lizzie
stopped chasing gators everyday
But ensnared the perfect gentleman
to help her pass her days away.

So now you might see Lizzie
as the twilight settles in
not in the company of gators
but with her spry old gentleman.

To awaken to a morning
where a chill pervades the air,
despite the brilliant dazzling sun
that blinds you with its glare.

When peeking through drawn curtains
winter's miracle abounds,
with the pristine arctic powder
stretched like a blanket on the ground!

To bundle up from head to toe,
to crunch through fields with glee.
To feel just like a child again,
inspired and carefree.

We create the perfect snowman
from frigid balls rolled round and round,
and he'll be a courtly-looking fellow
whose grand appearance will astound.

See that lovely couple skating
across the smooth and glassy ice,
or little kiddies gliding down steep hills
until their sleds take flight.

To finally gather round the fire
and bathe within its cozy glow,
laughing, singing and remembering
with the numbest cohorts that we know.

The finale of a winter's day,
drained by the chill of Jackie Frost.
Then cuddling upon a snuggly bed,
all for a minimal cost.

I miss that honest winter,
the whitest, bitter cold of all.
For me that wondrous season
is second only to the Fall.

As much as I love the vibrance of Fall
and the warmth of the summer sun.
I treasure the sting of my rosy cheeks
when our winter adventures are done.

Yes, I miss the winter of days gone by.
It instilled great joy in me
and right now the sight of pure crystalline snow
is the sight that I most need to see!