The Waiting Storm

Eyes glued to the windows
holding our hands tight
preying for even the chance
for a few stray flurries.
hoping against hope
because every little flake
adds up.

Voices of reason combining somewhere
in the back of the head
mustering a prolonged mock:
“Might as well wait outside
in full snow regalia
(they say)
toting a sled
at the side
as though it were an elaborate standard
held high in the air
triumphant
(Trumpet processional not far behind.)
for all the good it’ll do ya.”

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s