March 6, 2015 – Sunshine Lane

3:30 in the morning, and my dog decides
we need to go outside.

I stumble into a robe,
my slippers,
and out the front door.
Buddy runs out into the new snow.

I look up and gasp in wonder.
A nearly full moon shines from
behind Pikes Peak onto
the brand new sparkly snow
below and I am shocked and awed.

This cold, cold snow that has fallen
and fallen and fallen and enshrouded
the country in frigid weariness and
cabin fever is suddenly…
breathtaking and beautiful, perfect.

I suddenly realize Buddy
is pawing at my leg, ready to go inside.
It is ten degrees and I am reluctant,
strangely, to leave the beauty.

Robes and slippers are no
barrier against the cold though,
so in we go, back to bed, to sleep,
perchance to dream of beauty
in the snowy night.

©Elaine Wood-Lane
3/5/15

I love this poem! It really describes how many of us feel I think, about being cooped up too long in the midst of the snow that has covered us all up. It was written by Joseph Hesch.

A Thing for Words

It’s not that I wish
my creaky old bones
could still maneuver
a shovel full of snow
like a martial arts master
slicing the chrysanthemum air
with fancy sword or spear.
I’d be quite content never
again to clear pathways of
the imperialist white interloper
overtaking my home.

But the spray of snow
from the spout of a blower
carving egress from
my fevered cabin
sometimes entrances me
like watching the flowing silk
streaming from the ends
of those blades swung in
harmonious soft and hard
by Righteous and
Harmonious Fists.

I’ve believe I’ve been
cooped up here too long.

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