Poem: January 11, 2019

Snow Day

The forecast calls for snow tonight-
four to six inches, starting around nine
out of the southwest. I can track it
if I want to on my computer or on my phone.
I could triangulate on the details,
using multiple sources, radars of varying types,
monitoring the situation like a student
with an assignment due tomorrow, assessing
the odds, running surveys on social media.

When I was in the classroom
and the first flurries began to drift across the windows,
I would play my students by saying
that I had just gotten word from the office that
they were going to send us home-
wait for it- at 3 o'clock. So fun
to watch the rise and fall of their expectations.

A snow day is a magical disruption,
the hand of God flicking away our routines.
We act like we are still as helpless to prepare
as my grandparents were in the 20's,
like we'd have to crank the car
and put chains on the wheels to check to see
how the neighbors are getting on, like we
need to check the provisions in the root cellar.

We're sure to hit the store for eggs and milk
on the way home. Everybody does.
It said up to six inches, after all.
It's silly that we are this excited. It's Friday,
I have all wheel drive. The grocery store delivers.
But there it is. You can smell it in the air.