ice storm

by nan lundeen

 

dogwood by Ron DeKett
dogwood by Ron DeKett

The weather’s unsettled on Easter Eve

like a restless cow about to calve,

the land licked clean by heady winds.

By early evening

sleet takes the land

collects on branches

slicks old snow

burdens old limbs—

conquered

they conjure thunderous cracks

like mindless destruction.

Lights flicker off

a match flares

a kerosene lantern

a smoke-smeared chimney.

The dark kitchen presses

in on Mother, Daddy, and me

huddled in a puddle of light

over eggs, the tang of vinegar

in cups of

rose

blue

yellow

green.

One by one

we balance them

on spoons,

lift them into the night.

10 thoughts on “ice storm”

  1. Fills my soul, Nan. Ice Storm today, at the cusp of the New Year, evokes the same birthing. Your beautiful images enfold each other, with each brief, organic, non-linear, spacious line. I love the holy, nurturing cow metaphors, the land licked clean by heavy winds, bovine huddling expanded to humans, all in a puddle of light.

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