Eleven degrees
Cold chills the bones,
Swirling vortex of endless white
Fire burns in bellied stove
Down below.
Lazy day
As the world waits
For the end of wickedness
Snow eating machines overfilled
Metal arms pushing
Cannot keep up.
They watch wondering
Where is he now?
The glass of their world
Beyond unseen he moves
While they watch
And wait
And wonder when?
I release the beasts for short moments
They play and run
The children of the crystals
Covered and white they return
Shaking off
Ready to enter
Their den of heat
To the biscuit that waits
As they smile
In dog joy.

Somewhere in the tundra that is South of Buffalo NY, a rare snow day with travel bans, 3 feet and rising and moving yet closer…the pups get no naps when the peeps are home…and they are truly smiling….just like the kids.

9 thoughts on “When?

  1. When the snow machine doesn’t stop, gotta make the best of it….and the hubs came in and said “I’m tired of playing the snow globe, I wanna play beach” in the voice of a five year old. Priceless.

    Liked by 1 person

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