Each of us dies a little each day
and at night in the act of love.
Such worn remarks are true,
and wind here is more than cold.
When snow becomes a blizzard
in a whiteout on the Great Plains,
find a shoulder to stop the car,
get out the emergency cache
before the trunk freezes shut.
It will take a while to wait it out,
for the full darkness to return
so you can see where you were
going, and finally you get there.
With luck your beloved is home.
Happiness is a word that’s worn.
(2 December 2011)
copyright 2011 by Floyce Alexander