I had my first snow day yesterday since I was in - probably junior high school. Everyone has tales about skidding home, shoveling out, being delayed. I heard my plow man come by about 3 in the afternoon. I was happy to stay home and did not even look out the door until about 5 PM. At that point, I realized that even though the driveway was cleared, I would have to dig out the steps and the walk and the car - oh well.
While I was having a cup of tea and reading a magazine, I came across this poem. It is perfect for a snowy day.
Poem for our Plow Guy
You're an easy man to fall for, waking me with your corrugated rumble
and your headlights in the dark, making your way closer, closer
up our driveway through the muffled work, batterred blade
heaping all that glitter into banks spilling rumpled over
soft, accumulations turned so trim I could walk out
and step between them, follow the ice-scraped aisle
to the door of your pickup with your full name steciled
on the side, take a hand up into your stuffy cab, that woolly nest
where I could breathe in scents of black coffee and your peppermint
lifesavers and one sleepy guy, while some voice on the radio croons
or wails its heart out just loud enough to hold your eyes open all night
long on your mission to keep sweeping us back to the world.
- Candice Stover
This poem appeared in the February issue of
Down East magazine. I've never met my plow guy, but I loved this poem and today I am swept back into the world.
