Memories of the Snow

Across the pale and frost lit sheen
Aglow with orange muted life
The snowflakes speak as they lay down and cuddle
With the still and calm of 3 am night-

In a lifeless Pennsylvanian hamlet
Where a single road makes up the town
Like the nile, it feeds the warm bobble heads
As they sleep softly in their hollowed homes.

And yet outside the wind whispers triumphs
Of all it's seen and where it might go
Because all who know the wind know
It's never content with banks of snow

But here I sit with the whispering drifts
Who form embankments on the side of the road
To talk and whisper of the snowplow's brutality
As more arrive to coat the road.

Like a gathering of children when the oogy kid comes through
They may part for snow plows but they crowd again when they go
And as they do, they whisper and cuddle
And pack this winter wonder under the orange light bulb.

How brilliant the casual insomniac must be
To sit here with my cigarette in the muted din
And listen to the bluster of the snow from within
The embankments and glorious break from life

Tomorrow everything exists but it's on pause tonight.