Yes, itís true the storm has passed
By Marge Piercy
The highway has been cleared,
almost polished like a kitchen
floor after cleaners have gone.
But along many winding little
streets, at the end of sand roads,
back in the pine and oak woods
where deer huddle together
on trampled snow and nibble
needles, people are stuck hard
in their houses. Maybe theyíve
shoveled as far as muscles permit.
But the plow hasnít come there
and the electric company has put
them far down on the repair list
so itís dark, itís candle time.
Itís melting snow and wearing
so many layers they canít lean
over. Itís praying the propane
doesnít run out. Itís drag more
wet logs in and hope the fire
catches. No more milk, raccoons
have got into the meat placed
in a cooler outside in the biggest
drift to keep from spoiling.
Itís back to primitive grim days,
nights of ancestral fear ruled by
coywolves and great horned owls.
Copyright © 2015 by Marge Piercy.