6:00 AM and Its Snowing

6:00 AM and Its Snowing

Hand over your importance

demand tiny crystalline soldiers

floating to earth on a mission

to humble the streets

feel the warmth in a cold embrace,

refined as a lightly powdered nose,

refreshing as talc on a baby's bottom,

reassuring as a handful of flour

tossed across the butcher block

patience could birth delicious

in the swish of snow pants under

red cheeks and laughter,

a trail of solitary cat tracks and

the flick of a tongue

but we slog about in moist mittens and mufflers

angry back of the neck trickles and

the sizzle in your boots

rhythmic scoops and scrapes of a shovel

gritty rock salt eats away crusty flesh

snow blowers plunder the last remnants

of this helplessness efficiently.

gray puddles on the kitchen floor.

And we imagine ourselves powerful

once again.