trip up

The white chill smeared like clotted lard
over the fields and roads, clogging highways
making travel dangerous, if not impossible.
Consultations with the weather channel
predicted roadside emergencies and abandoned
cars half buried in snow drifts.  Yesterday’s
dark muddy fields were leprously milky
paved over by the better part of mid-calf snow
blown into knee-deep sculpted dunes.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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