Looking Out
Each air conditioner is topped
With its own mound of snow,
As well as all the window sills
I see, lined in a row.
I hear the blowing snow machines
From down there on the street,
A background noise to the more pleasant
Pinging of the sleet.
The cars are covered, clad in white,
And won’t be moved for days,
Though buses and some SUV’s
Plow through the wintry glaze.
It’s comfy in my city home;
There’s tennis on TV.
With food to eat and beer to drink,
We’ll get by cozily.
Tomorrow will be time to start
To venture from the nest,
But while the snow keeps swirling,
Looking out from in is best.
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