Snowstorm in Lowertown
The night thrashed softly,
curling in all directions,
as white sheets on a clothesline,
white smoke rising, intimate
over the windows and eaves.
Forgetting the city around us,
snow draws everything inward
as the throes of a lover’s wild hair.
Everywhere, it tangles in chaos,
but through the long hours
new dreams begin to take form,
reshaping light from the shadows,
wiping clean the sidewalks and streets,
rendering parked cars prehistoric,
sculpting new life from the mounds
of trashcans and forgotten artifacts.
A fresh clear beach soon awaits,
swept clean all the way to the corner store.
Where once we knew stairs,
we find large white seashells
curled at our feet,
soft, glistening crisp,
shattered at once by our footprints,
but upon our return
restored and polished once again.
