EARLY SNOW

The snow swept into the city
too soon this year —
even before the last leaves
had their chance to fall.
I watch from the warmth of my window
as the fragile flakes
are propelled by the wind in an angular dive.
I look down
as mounds form on the tops of parked cars.
In the street,
the slow moving traffic is grinding white fluff
into grey mush.
Even through my closed windows
I hear the sloshing sounds of spinning wheels
punctuated with scraping of
shovels on pavements.
I find myself hating this falling phenomenon
that inhibits movement
and sends winter storm warnings across my tv screen.
I try to remember the beauty of snow,
the graceful arcs created by drifts,
vast white plains so bright they hurt the eyes.
Snow is for people who live in the country,
for children on sleds,
for folks on skis. . .
but not for me.
Not until they figure out a way
to make snow fall on a hot sunny day.


© Ellen Azorin