After the Blizzard
Today there's an inch of old snow crust on the ground, and a brilliant blue sky outside. I wrote this poem after a Friday afternoon blizzard last winter, almost exactly a year ago, one of those basketball game days when people come from miles away to watch their third graders learn about sportsmanship-and survival.
After the Blizzard
The wind blew like a banshee last night.
I felt my way home in the gathering dark,
Searching the weak reflection of peeking marker posts
Through sand and slush, new snow piling in drifts over the summit.
Thirty miles of highway
A mere fantasy beneath the storm’s fury.
I sigh with relief when headlights show me
The willow fence
Leading me down the lane home.
Morning dawns in snow-muffled silence.
Ah, she thinks. A quiet Saturday,
A lapful of cats, a pot of good coffee.
But no. The cats are on the table,
journal in the briefcase
In the truck of the car,
Three-foot-deep drifted out on the road.
The phone rings early.
The coffee cools off.
Still, the winter hush says, today
Stay in your nest.