RSS Feed

Snowstorm Saturday

Posted on

Still snowing, but my closest neighbor
inside his homemade red and green shack
built on top of his tractor
is plowing his driveway already,
his tiny house protecting him from the wind.
He’s retired now and so has time
to turn his inspirations
into inventions.
All up and down my road,
I can hear the low-roar symphony
of snow blowers. And I’ve got to get out there myself
because I love to shovel snow without any motor at all.
But also, if I don’t hurry, my neighbor and his house
will clear my sidewalk and free my car
And because we’ve been here, side by side, a very long time,
I know he’ll be sitting inside his invention
shaking his head at my indolence
when he sees me through the front window
sipping my coffee, writing away.
And I want to shout Hey, I’m inventing here.
But he’d explain in his fatherly voice,
words on paper don’t count
when there’s snow to be cleared,
and so much practical work to be done.

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 )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ 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 )

w

Connecting to %s

The Novel Bunch

aka: The Happy Bookers

The Sketchbook

MOSTLY MONTREAL, MOST OF THE TIME

Red Wolf Prompts

I came to where you were living, up a stair. There was no one there.--John Ashberry, "The New Higher"

typewriter rodeo

custom poems on vintage typewriters

A Poet in Time

One Poet's Writing Practice

Writing the Day

A Poetry Practice

Invisible Horse

Living in the moment

leaf and twig

where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry

%d bloggers like this: