Dec 27
no comments

Father and I had pulled the pump up
out of the well to put
new leathers in the cylinders.
I looked toward the house and saw
that our cats were spinning around
and around on the steps
as if they were drunk. Then the air
was suddenly full of snow,
weeds, dust and fodder, blowing
out of the northwest. We ran in
and pulled the door shut, snapping
the bottom hinge in the wind.
A wall of snow hit the house
and shook it hard, and it grew dark
as night. We had plenty of coal
to burn, for Father had bought a load
the week before. Through the night,
the house rocked like a cradle,
cracking much of the plaster loose.
In the morning we found
the wind had packed the snow so hard
our horses could walk on it
without breaking the crust.
The drifts were there till June.

“A Man’s Voice,” Ted Kooser, The Blizzard Voices (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2006).


Leave a Comment

You must be logged in to post a comment.