The Snow

Posted by in Motherhood Project, Poetry, Writing

From the corner of my eye
the snow breathes in on us,
falls gently in flutters,
flits wildly,
layering us in cold cold quiet.

I pull on my boots,
wrap a scarf lazily about my head,
reach into the stiff warm gardening gloves.

The compost bucket has been full for weeks,
the run over, rotting in a paper bag;
There have been better days to do this,

I settle on today.

Outdoors, my boots crunch,
leave quickly covered footprints
I will never see,
and I make my way in the brisk air.

Forms take shape:
Rake handles
Broken toys
Too many unfinished games
and half-finished projects,

a basketball hoop.

The compost bin,
old pallets jutting out in the winter wind,
are inviting, hungry even
So I dump the sludge of weeks
atop the clean white snow

It will be hidden in minutes,
I think,
so I forgo the rake
and make my way back

Suddenly, the thought of returning
to my office
to my chair
to the warmth and security
of the American dream
is somehow less

and I crave a reason to get my hands dirty.

Its not so transcendent
as my spirit felt free
but something more simple…

My lungs fuller than they’d ever been
My hands purposeful
My mind, calm and content.

The snow, the silence, more satisfying
than anything I’d ever done.

and here, in this rustic ideal,
I sensed,

I was happy.

But responsibility calls
So we return to the sound
of children bickering,
dishes clanking,
the glow of the screen,

our families.

There is joy in this too,
I think.
But the birds outside the window,
picking cheerfully through the rot,
have found the happy medium

and I envy them
entirely.