There’s a kind of relief in a snow day.
Some finely frosted hand erases every line of
have-to-do’s and leaves behind a clean whiteboard,
an empty page, free of lists, and of plans.
All clutter of obligation and strident responsibility
is blown clear with these rising white drifts.
They’ll return again, redrawn,
with plows and with salt trucks,
roads re-open and lists rewritten.
Until then, here a warm cup of coffee, a book,
and a softly snoring dog.
For now, there’s enough to do.