out the window, laurel bush, two sparrows

flit from a snow laden branch to a smaller twig

appear and are gone, a bluebird arrives big, bold.

The snow begins to fall again. Snowed in

since Monday, sixteen inches over three days.

Our street snowbound, down the block the Ford truck

in Ferguson’s driveway sits dormant.

Yesterday I called McCarty, he lives directly

across the street, his power is still on.

My heat, lights out since yesterday morning

wrapped up like a gold miner in the Yukon, hands, feet like icicles.

McCarty brings boiling water in a thermos

he’s out of coffee, I hand him a package of Seattle’s Best

from my now defrosted refrigerator. We commiserate,

decide being neighbors is a good thing without saying so.

I make myself a cup of coffee, heaven for the moment,

my hands warming around the cup, warmth in my chest,

fortified I call the electric company again

gentle in my request, the linemen are working hard.

Ask if the linemen work after dark

the operator says yes, they use a floodlight,

another freezing couple of hours

reading, meditating, hoping.

Suddenly my baseboard heater begins to ping,

the light sitting on my study desk comes on

Summer sunlight in the middle of winter,

light floods the room like August.