(Apologies to Robert Frost.)
Whose car that is, I think I know,
it should be going forward, though;
not spinning ’round toward oncoming
traffic, then a bank of snow.
Being from the East, I think it odd
to see drivers sullen and downtrod.
Two inches here can cause chaos
on roads untreated and unplowed.
The traffic gives me time to think
on desert dwellers who seem to shrink
from snow that’s not so bad – but wait;
4th Street looks like a hockey rink.
Alas, in my alacrity
I’ve slid – headlong – into a tree.
Let’s see, should I call 9-1-1
My seat belt, like a binding sash
prevented my impact with the dash.
I’m told by the Dispatcher I must
join the crowd of those who’ve crashed.
I wonder aloud, “Where are the plows?”
I’m sure they’re trying to get moving now.
But Rush Hour’s past, the damage is done;
waste not one’s energy on a row.
I leave the car, and start to walk;
my house is just around the block.
With luck, the tow trucks are still out
and I’ll find a driver who wants to talk.
The silence of a snow-filled night
brings with it an eerie, pleasant light.
I stand outside the house and dwell
on how such beauty can cause such fright.
P.S. I didn’t really wreck the car last night, but I certainly feel for those who did, as well as the public safety and other government employees who had to deal with it. This is the most snow I’ve seen in Grand Junction at one time since I’ve lived here.
May your Christmas Week be a safe and joyous one.