The Blizzard of ‘96
Merril D. Smith
A nor’easter the forecasters said–
as the wind laid a snowy quilt over sidewalks and streets,
and the frost-brittled lawn was transformed, a frozen expanse,
an Arctic sea; the steps and basement windows were thickly coated,
a layer of Wite-out erased everything that existed before the storm.
Too cold to be outside, our daughters sent their Barbies
on adventures through time and space,
to nineteenth-century Concord, to the USS Enterprise,
but they found their way back
to giggle-slurp hot cocoa and munch oven-warm cookies–
amidst the scent of cinnamon, chocolate, and wet wool,
I was strangely content,
as we bided in this cocoon of frosty white,
waiting to emerge and fly toward the sun.
