By Jason W. Johnson
 
Before the frost flowers, before the windshield cracks
Into a fragile web of fractured glass,
I’ll take my place among the walnut trees
And the dead dogwoods, whose bare branches break
Beneath the burden of a two days’ snow,
Leaving behind a white, disheveled canvas
Of frozen leaves and cold, denuded trunks.
The radio warns that another foot
 
Of what they call “a shovelable snow”
Will break the border of the national forest
Before morning.
I hear it in the breeze,
The quiet encroachment of another storm
That, like the windshield, we’re not ready for,
But nonetheless will flower in the trees.
 
 

One Response to “Snowbound on the Outskirts”

  1. Shayani Says:

    beautiul , especially in my Winnipeg context


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