Winter Poem

The window pane lets through
A chill
And the scraping, thundering
Of the plow

Outside, the evening’s darkness
Is brightened from above
By the orange glow
Of one, sky-sized cloud

Which gathers the light
Of all the city’s street lamps
And sends it, collected
Onto the new layer of white

An amber light flashes
Atop the truck
Whose headlight beams
Light the back of the yellow metal plow

A scene like this
Triggered excitement, when I was a boy
For school to be put off
For more time with siblings and friends

I’m not in school anymore
I’m my parents’ age
And the fun
Is gone

In the morning, I force myself through
The frigid drifts of the yard
And put out seed
For the birds from the north

Black and white juncos
Smaller chickadees and purple finches
Blue jays, and red and brown cardinals
Flutter and feed

And before I go in
I drive a mile to the lake
To see how it’s doing
As ice

And to see again
There is so much more
Than just me
Than just the day-to-day

Back home my thoughts stay snowed in
I’m seeing everything the wintery-same
Gray sky and gray-brown trees
Gray-brown fenceway for the gray-brown squirrels

My desk is the same
And so are my bookshelves
The same books
In the same order

The window pane lets in
The buzzing, whining drone
Of the neighbor’s blower
All drives and walks now clear

Except mine

I don’t want to pull on boots
Nor put on a down jacket
I don’t want to tangle on a scarf
Nor fumble with gloves

I turn from the window
And slide out a book
Sit, and start to read
Page one, page two, page three

And my mind leaves the story
My breathing slows
I let my eyes close
Let hibernation take me

I don’t need
The weather forecast
The words snow and cold
Are clichés

I’d like a forecast
For inside me
For what’s on the way
Within me

Tomorrow the vortex will slow
The wind of worry will no longer gust
And there’s a good chance
For an accumulation of my thoughts