The Storms Appear, Here, I Fear, Each Year

The first storm of November
Always takes us by surprise;
It's as if we've never dealt before with snow.
We don't seem to remember,
When it comes down from the skies,
The winter coping strategies we know.

The driving skills we're proud
Of on our Minnesota roads,
Desert us and we're totally confounded.
We park where not allowed,
And we're consequently towed, -
Our vehicles expensively impounded.

We cannot find our shawl,
And we've lost our woolen caps.
Our sweaters haven't come back from the laundry.
It happens every fall
And you'd think by now, perhaps,
We'd have found a way around this yearly quandary.

Though we face it with esprit,
As a group we're going numb
From the ill effects of Boreal anesthesia.
Minnesotans, Hail to Thee!
We're as hearty as they come,
But we can't escape November storm amnesia.