Ice advisory

crackles on the radio

frost and ice (not snow) but ice.

The air tings sharp—like rigid glass—

The clouds are porcelain,

the breeze a wet snap snipping by

promising the things that will never

fall..till now?

–

Ice advisory.

Tonight the wood-burn stove

purrs as liquid flames turn brown

to grey…and cold as people snore

nestled in mountains

soft and blanket fuzzing-warm

promising the cold that never

comes…till now?

–

Ice advisory.

The wake-thought as we wake

and shaking feel the quake of ice

that’s particled to window panes.

The rigid floor-boards groan

as we scamper—barefoot (why?!)

to see the maybe snow that never

falls…but now?  

–

Ice advisory

nestles silent on the ground

in heaping humps of snow (not ice).

The hallway fills with whoops and squeals

as snow-knife air invades

through the gaping front-porch door

promising a day that never

comes…till now.