Snow Day
Opening the curtain
Behind my padded wooden chair,
Fresh snow has fallen.
A neighbor shovels at his car,
Giving me an internal wish
That this snow could be cleared
From my porch.
This, after I hurt my knee
Reaching for the hooks
Where the strap holds
The white and the brown curtains.
Across the cold lawn
A black cat limps in the street.
Does he wear orange make-up?
My luck is holding
While an unlucky nation screams.
My birthday cake bakes
For tomorrow's tiny celebration.
I'll smear chocolate frosting
On my old, white beard
From plates on a red table cloth.
A blue throw sits at the arm
On the red sofa.
Fireworks will be missing,
Wishing I could hear
A flake's conviction blizzard
On a windy day
Seeing the drifts of liberation.
Barry G. Wick
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