(March 2008, the longest winter of my life)
From the window
Snow, like meringue, sparkles over smooth round cheeks
And crisp sharp crests, tauntingly seducing me
Into believing that I can shovel through it
With my puny winter muscles, having lifted nothing
Heavier than a pen or perhaps a bedspread,
For months, thinking that this marshmallow fluff
Can’t keep me from my busy day.
The back door needs a push to open.
Snow leans high against it.
The dog refuses to go out.
The cat disdainfully looks down
From the top step, asks only for a treat.
And watches as I don my down-filled coat,
Toque and mittens with sheep’s wool thumbs,
Designed to make this task a pleasant venture.
Little do I know of their wisdom until
I step out and up, onto the glistening surface.
Realizing that, blinded by the superficial beauty
I have not considered that which lies beneath.
The crust from five hours of freezing rain, gusty winds, blowing snow,
Yesterday just words repeated and repeated on the weather channel,
Now as real as a root canal when the anesthetic wears off.
Perched on top I am effective as a sparrow,
Pecking with my plastic shovel, when
I need the abs, pecs, and pick-axe of a lumberjack.
Retreating to the kitchen, past the superior stare
Of the cat on the step, and the welcome wag of the dog’s tail
I put on the coffee and my thinking cap
To ponder just what to do
With another day as a snow captive?
– Judith Cleland
