Who Knew

630boots

Plans are cancelled and new ones made as
the white sky releases heavy flakes from its mouth
falling faster and heavier than those who told us what’s coming
really knew.

Layers are donned
hats, scarves, gloves, boots
all that remains a nose, two eyes
peeking from within fortification.

Bounding down the back steps and
into the white, crunching
sinking
floating.

Shovelfuls, handfuls
packing and molding
sled runs and igloos and
people of the snow.

And when the cold and wet work their way into bones
and bellies beg for food
a bursting through the door, disrobing
and so much more than nose and eyes beam at me in delight.

Hats, scarves, gloves, boots
some hung, some tossed to the towel laid upon the floor
contentment hovering in the air.
Did the weather forecasters know this would come too?

No one really knew
what today would hold until
the holding had all been held
and then we knew.  We really knew.

 

Sending a little love your way, m

 

 

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