He swears to his wife that snow hits
the ground with a scraping sound, none
of that silent night stuff most people
talk about in a winter storm.
After a heavy snowfall, when families
are still sleeping, he'll be clearing
the city’s major arteries, coffee cup
in one hand, steering wheel in the other.
He could drive his plow blind,
but keeps his eyes on the road in case
a deer decides to leap from the woods,
or an irate citizen jumps in front
of his truck, insisting his street needs
clearing first or he’ll have your job,
which as far as the snowplow driver
is concerned, he is welcome to try.
But it feels good to make the roads safe
for people whether they appreciate it
or not, though his dreams are often
filled—even on summer nights—with
the scrape, scrape of his plow, the wet
pavement shining like a warrior's
shield everywhere his blade has been.
Terri Kirby Erickson is the author of eight collections of poetry, including The Light That Follows Us Home, which will be released by Press 53 in the fall. Her work has been widely published and has won numerous awards, including the Joy Harjo Poetry Prize and International Book Award for Poetry.
No comments:
Post a Comment