Before the Storm by R. Kipp Miller

It isn't even here
but I live for it.

I'm so ready.
Wood hauled.
Water in the tub.
Enough food to last a week.
And for some reason, primitive but real,
my father's rifle loaded by the door.

Oh, how I live for what is to come.
The howling wind.
The rocking of this old house.
The sleet scratching to get in.
And, as night blankets all,
a childlike coziness, the utter
safety and warmth I'll feel
wrapped in a quilt before the fire.

Let it last for days.
All too soon the lights will come back on.
The printer whirring and chirping to life.
The neighbors checking in--wondering
after the third or fourth ring
if this was the storm that finally did him in.



A poet and freelance writer, R. Kipp Miller lives with his wife, the dancer and teacher Nilsa Villaronga, on a mountainside in rural Hancock, New Hampshire. His poetry has appeared most recently in The Hollins Critic and The Onion River Review.