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Monday, March 2, 2015

Ad Infinitum

I told myself I wouldn't write about snow this time, that I was done with it.  But when I sat down to work on a blog post, this is what came out.  When I was in fifth grade, we had so much snow we were out of school for most of February. I remember that, the same way fifty years from now today's kids will remember this defining year.  And so it goes . . .

In Twenty-fifteen

We lived at sea level
and yet,
hills that began
calendar-page white,
climbed the skies around us
at first untouched,
but for the scampering,
a rabbit maybe, a squirrel,
and clearly a deer
sloughing a path,
its row of stutter steps
forging a diagonal,
waist-deep behind the shed.
Once the wind died,
we sucked in our breath and shoveled,
not bothered by the hoar frost
paining our lungs,
that again
and again,
the skies would howl
with blow and tear,
that our frozen roof
would pop,
gunshot sounds
leaving us awake and trapped,
amid our worst imaginings.
That later,
mounds would tower
at the end of the driveway,
line the half-wide streets,
or that bobcats and backhoes
would lift snow
into deep-welled trucks,
shape mountains
on the beach lot,
in front of a slurry sea.
In Switzerland they have the Alps,
Matterhorn, Monte Rosa and Dom,
and if we stood around
the curve in the road
and held our hands like picture frames,
we could pretend for a moment
we'd traveled there,
escaped this harsh season,
when what God really wanted,  
was to hold us frozen, inside. 


Anonymous said...

Now there's a frozen start to your day.

Alex J. Cavanaugh said...

Wonderful poem! I can see the snow piles growing higher.
And amazing photos. As always.

Joanne said...

wow - powerful poem and then pictures to match

Starting Over, Accepting Changes - Maybe said...

Your poem well describes the winter of 2015 in New England.

Madeline Mora-Summonte said...

The poem and the photos make me feel like I'm really there, experiencing it all. (I'm glad I'm not, though. Sorry!) :)

Karen Jones Gowen said...

Good thing you wrote about snow because clearly it is inspiring you! I'm not tired of it yet, am enjoying all the photos.

Author R. Mac Wheeler said...

love that last shot :)

Susan Gourley/Kelley said...

I can understand how it takes over all your thoughts, even the creative part of your mind. I think young people will remember this year.

Susan Flett Swiderski said...

Yeah, I imagine the "magic" of snow is wearing mighty thin by now. I'm sending lots of warm thoughts your way.

Lovely poem. I remember being overwhelmed by snow when we lived in MD, and I don't miss it one little bit.

glnroz said...

my hat is off to ya'all...I am too weak for that much cold.. lol..but reading and seeing it from your viewpoint makes is beautiful...thanx for the "stop by" glenn

Robin said...

Love the poem. I'm trying to imagine having enough snow that your roof pops with sounds akin to gunshots. That would be more than disconcerting to awaken to in the middle of the night/morning.

It's funny that you mention that as a kid you were out nearly a month in February. I find it interesting that people always want to point to what we're doing "today" that would cause this sort of weather. It's happened before. It'll happen again. Weather occurs in cycles. Snow. Rain. Heat. Drought. We aren't "doing" anything; the weather is just being itself.

Hang in there while it rages!

Connie said...

I really liked this poem, and your photos are amazing too! Well done!