By Marie-Louise Meyers

Just when we figured no more triggered blizzards 

no more skiing or skating, no vernal pools awaiting;

no more ponds filled to the brim in Spring,

nothing to negotiate with unending Earth’s warming trend

when the atmospheric river froze up, stopped here in January.

Snow showers that never let up, once treasured, 

our fears rebounded with ice as a final measure 

as if a loving cup overfilling must be preserved 

under the new cloud network undeserved

spreading out like a white surplice above any doubts, 

but we were no longer willing recipients

of the cold that settled in to our chagrin. 

Every once in a while Nature has to test Its mettle

Are we fantasizing or aggrandizing?

The road is a ribbon of solitude

between the ice-encrusted embankments.

The hunters are a No Show in the snow globe,

the buck is back with his rack in tow,

the white mink looking like an ermine fits right in

as does the snow shoe rabbit, 

and the skunk with colors reversed;

the cougar still sight unseen

flying over tree branches as if sentient dreams rehearsed.

While I am trapped in the white expanse 

locked in the embrace of snow and ice 

praying there will not be a close encounter,

found out but well-preserved during the thawing out!