Northern Winter Night
Driving, bleary-eyed, down a winding state route,
no moon overhead to break-up the dark,
just clouds blocking out even the stars,
my headlights shine on white banks against the black.
Trees stark, barely visible on the edges,
wind swirls loose snow, snakes across the road,
gusts blow up, just enough to make things blurry,
a sheer screen of snow, screwing with the eyes.
It’s is single digits outside of my car,
the heater can’t keep up, my coat stays on.
An hour still to the family cabin,
our ancestral vacation home.
The mountains loom, so magnificent here,
but the drive, at night, is from another age,
empty and cold, could be centuries ago
if not for the ribbon of black pavement.
Keep driving, see no lights ahead of me,
quietly hope my aging car makes it,
spare blanket wouldn’t be enough tonight…
Wait! A road-sign, and a distant lamp.
It’s a gas station, where another road meets,
clerk looks as lonely as I feel right now,
basic and spartan, still feels comforting,
linger by beef jerky, just to feel warm.
But I have to press on, down the peak road,
people are coming in for the holiday,
have to clean the cabin up for all,
step back out, cold air prickling in my lungs.
Again on the road, half-listened radio,
I will start a fire, lie on my bear-skin
when I arrive, it may sound quite cliché,
but it really does feel fantastic…
Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2018
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