by Donna Pucciani
Say goodbye to yourself, dear glacier. You have already begun to disintegrate under the one-eyed stare of earth’s deadly star.
It’s only a matter of time before your carpet of ice gives way to mosquito-ridden tundra. Moose and elk will wander up and up wondering where white has gone.
Caribou talk among themselves. They will tell their children about the reindeer on the sled of St. Nicholas, who used to drive a jingling sleigh through the long-forgotten snow.
