At noon a whirling flake or two
but by nightfall the world
was obscured by a thick blanket of white.
The lawns, the rooftops, the sidewalks, the shrubs.
Sparse traffic on our street,
creeping along, fifteen miles per hour,
no stops for red lights.
I put on my new winter coat,
Green Bay Packers knit cap,
sweater, scarf, gloves, boots.
The snow came up
to our Miniature Schnauzer's chest
so we sludged down the street
in the ruts left by cars,
the salt burning little Iko's paws.
In the morning I shoveled the drive
so we could get to my wife's doctor appointment,
then the porch steps for the mailman.
Huffing, puffing,
heart thumping,
eyes tearing from the biting wind.
Thrice-daily forays with Iko,
freezing in the morning,
dark nights the worst.
The sidewalk paths
quickly turned to ice.
Two slips, two tumbles into the snowbank.
The neighborhood homeless woman
set up her sleeping shelter
on the bus stop bench.
Twelve degrees, I feared for her life.
A cruel winter storm,
alien, inhospitable.
Nature turned against her own progeny.
A stark reminder of one's mortality.
