White Christmas

A week of snow, and still no end in sight.
My sidewalk's drifted seven inches deep
and halfway down, a hidden glaze of ice
makes walking tricky. Buses rumble by
and rattle chains with all their engine's might.
At night, the bedroom's far too bright to sleep,
the usual city lights reflected twice:
once from the snowy ground, once from the sky.

We wait for thawing, pray to avoid the flood
that comes with frozen soil and melting snow
and heavy rain. In any case, we know
we're in for weeks of cold and sticky mud--
but better that than slick and glassy streets.
White Christmas. It's just not that great a treat.

Collection available! Knocking from Inside