Island in February
Thirteen miles out to sea
spoiling for a storm,
small island holds its ground
in spite of tide and blizzard wind.
Stillness covers snow’s first free fall,
followed by the charge – frantic, flamboyant, bellowing.
Snow hides, twists, blocks, breaks,
disappears every road and path.
A shed, a trellis, two benches – all become debris.
Here and there lights flicker as indoor restlessness
drives attention to TV.
Rhapsody in white alters sight,
demands attention from awakened hearts at home.
A mood of plainsong gives place to counterpoint
In meter of household sounds.
Voices sometimes rise like chant,
then rest in the moment where silence is restored.
All that’s heard is simmering soup, a yawning dog
a splash of snow, vibration of a text.
Not far away the shore still quakes with foaming waves,
but here and now fragile presence real and warm
holds life’s fragments fast.