I didn’t plan on writing tonight
until the snow dusted the ground
and flew around in the cold, piercing wind.
I had cleared a foot of it
a week or so ago
but taunting, it returned.
Once, not so bad. Tonight, not so bad.
It might just want an audience.
The powder up past my ankles
has returned to the ground
I can’t see where I once walked
through it, I can’t see the individual flakes
that gave the plow a run for its money,
I can’t see the snowman the kids built
down the way with its rugged smile
of gravelly teeth–
I see the ground with a hint of snow.
It’ll be back. I’ll be back.
The truck, the snowman,
and trillions of new and unique
bits of snow
will be back.
And that’s more than enough.
I usually write a corny story for New Year’s Eve but I can’t even finish the other stories I’ve started writing. Here’s a poem instead. It’s 40 minutes away here but wherever you are, have a blessed and happy New Year!
The real C. D.