The fifth biggest blizzard in Minnesota history,
I thought, as I chipped away
at a graceful snowdrift that was almost my height.
The weather was bone-numbing misery.
I stomped inside and brushed snow off my slacks,
and watched Sasha, my black pom-peke-a-poo
plop down in front of the TV,
with a mouthful of kibble she had brought in for snacks.
(Where did she learn that?)
I turned on my Christmas tree on top of the TV
and felt a little sad, remembering Christmases past;
when, as a child sitting by the tree lights and tinsel,
I felt I would be forever with my family.
Suddenly I heard a noise outside; a kind neighbor
had come to unblock my driveway with a plow, and a
That simple act made all the difference to one solitary soul.
In the white wasteland grew graceful shapes and inspired
lighting by some.
It reminded me of the far deeper meaning of this season.
I looked outside at the deepening shadows.
Red, blue and green lights glowed under a white blanket.
It was time to see my mother; I turned and tripped over Sasha.
Smiling, I left, scooping up my yorkie Aspen and my outdoor clothes.