Member Poem

After the Snowstorm

Is it a Chevy or a bear
beneath that hulking heap of snow,
hibernating in its lair?

If it’s alive, its breaths are slow
as ice floes on Europa’s seas.
It shall keep dozing; I’ll not go

and dig it out (though chickadees
chuckle at this chilliness).
Light paws and hiking boots now breeze

around the neighborhood. O bless
the snowplows! Sidewalks everywhere
are unobstructed (more or less).

I muse while breathing bracing air:
why bug a sleeping Chevy-bear?