Let it snow. Let blue skies fade to steel. Let the wind gust, then pick up, flat light creep in. Let clouds arrive, pile up, grow dark, conceal. Let the weather service issue a bulletin. Let the first flakes fall like the kiss in a seduction, Full of promise, tenderness and danger. Let them whisper imminent destruction, Then unfurl their fiery love and anger. Let evening fall, let freedom ring, let things Break down berserk, dark spirals burst out big, And flake on flailing flake sculpt thickening rings Of snow beyond what any plow can dig. The ground is bare, the flowers dead. Let's go: It's winter, time for blizzards. Let it snow.
--David J. Rothman
A couple lines' meter might have been done more elegantly, but I like it, and damned if it isn't apt right now. 20% chance tonight; I'm not holding my breath.
Before I return the book to the library, I might as well post another of Mr. Rothman's sonnets:
Resurrection of a Mouse
What full, sad sounds, the noise that you were making, Clenched in our cat's jaws, pierced by a tooth, Inevitably cought forever, shaking And squeaking like a man who's seen the truth. Sneaky pest who shit all over tables, Vermin, host to rabies, hanta, louse, I'm undeceived by all the mousy fables. I'm glad you're gone, I'm pleased our cat can mouse. Still, I cannot forget your empty death, Prey to the satisfied play of calico. Years later I start awake, hearing your breath Cry life as far as any voice can go. Confidently soaring, writing with my wing, Beyond all praise and blame, you sing, you sing.