What could I really know of the breaks
in the land
huge canyons bleeding red cut by the wind
with the snow swirling around our tires
and fallen to a tumble like icebergs
windshield riming over with a crust of ice
we scrape madly inside
trying to keep cold out
slowing to a crawl
always on the lookout
outside line appearing and gone,
no worries about
cattle led inside to safety to be watered and fed
but what of us?
Will we be trapped clutching a candle
wanting a chocolate bar,
waiting for a tractor?
and all the flat seeming land seems to have ditches
and roof pitches and rushing trees, and a swirl
of slumbering snow
to lumber down in drifts and piles
no fire would ever warm us
until finally we see it shining in the dark
a lantern at a farm
a fleet of snow mobiles to greet us
scurry is off
before our ears turn blue,
would they fall off?
Luckily, not tonight, not in this blizzard,
we have home.