Blizzard

start out on foot.
the snow’s too thick to drive.
leaving footprints on the walk,
I watch the pigeons as they dive
from wires hanging overhead,
suspended from a sky of lead.

I pass the brave ones bearing sleds.
stinging pink and snow-kissed cheeks.
cover up the mouth and nose,
we’re all becoming Eskimos.

down, down the hill through whipping wind.
giggle whirlwind going down.
then…heavy silent sky above;
muffled sounds on powdered ground.
frosty fingers, frosty toes.
we’re all becoming Eskimos.

originally written on Feb 9, 2013