The wind is whipping, so the sleet’s
Like needles on your face.
Your feet are slipping on the sheets
Of ice formed everyplace.
The cars are skidding on the roads
That haven’t gotten salt.
It’s so forbidding, each abode’s
Prepared for an assault.
The people shopping in the stores
Buy everything in sight;
Though some are stopping doing chores
That they don’t need tonight.
The blizzard’s blowing as they said,
A fierce, ferocious storm.
So I’m not going out; instead,
I’ll watch from in the warm.
Copyright © ilene bauer