This Is Not December

We flew to Montreal on vacation
Canada was white with snow
I don't know what I expected
The buildings, walls, and boxcars
Were thick with graffiti
Just like home
We took the train up to Quebec City
Countryside dressed in snowfall
The winter sky was gray
And looking through any window
It looked cold outside
The Canadians were unphased
The snow, the ice, the salt
The wet, the freeze, and the gravel
The snowplows, drifts, bluster
So different from the deep south
The heart of dixie
Where we may get snow
Once every five or six years
Canada's winter weather
Was annually well worn
Christmas villages, locals speaking French
It was both bitter and beautiful
So far from home
A dream finally realized
Photographs and memories
We stomp our boots
Kick off the snow
Hurry inside
Quickly close the door on winter
Pack for the flight home
Back to the December I know