February Labrador Sonnet

Don't answer when they ask you where you've been,
Unless you want the whole damn world to know
You underestimated how much snow
Would fall in northern Labrador, a scene
Uninterrupted by any machine
Designed to clear the roads, where drivers go
In snowmobiles, where sweet grass used to grow
But now hides underneath, perhaps not green.

Don't tell them that you brought your bathing trunks,
And made a reservation for a swim
In Sandgirt Lake. There's time to sing a hymn
And pray for brains, before your debut dunks.
Maybe there's something you could ask the monks
Before you're frozen through at every limb.