The Blizzard of 2009
Snow lays heavy on branches, normally gray,
transformed into blackened arms and ebon legs.
Like a summer storm, snow rains down
in flakes large as dimes and small as grains of sand.
The remaining oak leaves shiver and bow down
as the wind seems to encourage them
to let go, to move on, to give in to their inevitable demise.
The evergreens are frosted, and they, too,
shiver and shake but stand tall against the winds.
All sounds are muffled on the street.
It’s an official snow day; everything’s closed down
as we hunker deeper under the covers,
turn up the heat, and give thanks
for the basic necessities of food and shelter.
It is amazing how ordinary things
take on extraordinary appearances
when embraced by snow.
Even window screens wear
polka dots of snow blown onto them.
When I first woke around 4 a.m.,
the outside was transformed
into what could have been a stage set
for a winter extravaganza,
such was the thickness of snow waiting for the winds.
This year, we may have a white Christmas,
for this early nor’easter will probably leave
enough snow to last through the coming week.
Snowflakes are larger now.
They look like popcorn and cotton balls.
So much artistry and such breathtaking beauty
leave me in awe and gratitude
for changes of the seasons
and the variables of weather.
I am blessed, in perfect health, and in love with life.
Thank You for blessings past, present, and on the way.
Day Two
Last night, the snowstorm ended.
This morning the sun shines brightly on “the new fallen snow”
that covers everything in white slipcovers.
A man with a snow shovel just knocked on the door,
and he will shovel the driveway
from the basement door to the street.
The wind is still up, and leaves
seem to be trying to keep warm by shivering.
Our houses look like Kincaid’s villages of light.
Snow now plops down the roofs and branches;
soon the branches will go back to their nakedness.
Crystal icicles over a foot long
hang from Shannon’s garage roof.
The wind stirs up a mini storm of snow
blown from its perch in the trees.
Only now, the remainders
hold on in clumps and clusters.
The sky is a bright, bright blue without clouds.
Highlighted by the sun
and covered o’er with the snow,
everything takes on a uniform purity.
The red holly berries send out
a contrasting siren song
against the evergreen of the holly
and the dun of the oak leaves.
Nineteen inches of snow now cover our yard.
The holly and the oak dance to and fro
as the wind makes dancers of any in its path.
“Everything is beautiful in its own way,”
the first line to a years’ old song
just popped into my consciousness.
I give thanks for perfect health,
Divine Order in my life and affairs,
love, compassion, patience, understanding,
enough to share and to spare,
and all other blessings past and present,
seen and unseen, and those yet to come.
