It’s sleeting and raining and snowing.
Ice blankets the branches,
Turned pavement to treachery
This town is closed.
No cars pass this house.
Frozen bird feeders magnetize wildlife;
The scurry and flutter of creatures is all that moves under an icy downpour of sodden pellets.
My schedule is frozen and the promise of a day off is both exhilarating and nerve racking.
I’m not good at this.
The stillness reminds me that I’m exhausted and too restless to stay put
With projects I’d sooner leave in a rear view mirror.
My dog and I take tentative steps onto a dicey front porch.
I’m four layers deep, finished in an old ski jacket.
Despite the icy hill, we pick our way up the road’s shoulder
And head for the lake.
I slide backwards again and again down the slope that cuts to the lake road
And finally find footing in a swath of old leaves on the edge of the woods.
My husband has slipped my phone into a pocket worried that I’ll fall in a world of aloneness.
I recall a snowy mountain in my past
Three miles up and the road just a path
I’d climb home in darkness,
Moonlight on the snow
I’m used to the simple company of dogs in wilding times.
My husband persists
He reminds me that I have a failing hip
What if I fall?
I’m shushing down the road like a pretend skater
Running without lifting my feet
That slide without slipping.
The woods are silent and I silently pray for no trespassers other than me.
My co-conspirator pup’s white fur looks buttery next to this snow.
He matches my pace though he’s old and more into smelling the roses these days
So to speak
Look at us,
I tell him.
Ten days ago you had abdominal surgery
And two nights ago, I could barely stand on two legs
The body is more than matter.
Under nature’s spell
Given the right time and place
Incapacity is not a word,
And without a form
No longer exists.
Unthawed on commencement
I return with my jacket covered in ice
With all that ailed me released by silence and silvered trees.
I am unfrozen.