Snow On The Windows \ Climbing March Hill #4

Nancy: When the windows are obliterated with whirling blowing snow, only the mind can escape.

Snow On The Windows

a landscape

a geology textbook

a campsite at Jumbo Rocks

a canyon, walking deep into history

a rolling meadow

a cave

icebergs

Mount Kailas, streaming cloud

I might say

    I am shut in

    yes, I am shut in

traveling

traveling

Alan: Snowstorm after snowstorm, six feet, nine feet, eleven feet... And yet even in this hard winter, early March hints at another season coming.

Climbing March Hill #4

You say, “Look at the sky!”

I see “bruised.”  I see “angry.”

“Livid.”  I see welts,

something stretched out wounded.

Your pain and mine, everyone’s.

Lifetimes of hurts.

I see a storm far to the south,

heavy thumb on the mid-Atlantic states.

Stranded commuters.  A jet

off the runway, almost

in the river.  People running.

I see long tongues of flame.

I see this through another window

than last time.  Another angle,

a little farther north.

I see a furnace banking itself behind spruces,

the sharp line of trees on the crest of the hill we live on.

A blindly biting mouth.

I see winter suddenly afraid of its own mortality.

I see a break in the storms, a chance for the snow to settle.

I see another cold night coming and a clear dawn,

the evening star setting west.

I see seeds waiting under the snow.

“Beautiful,” I say to you.  “Beautiful.”