my plans crash with the pine limbs

a storm of ice

something, maybe an absence, 

rouses us from a sound sleep,

the electricity stops coming to our home:

no power to the clocks, the lights,

the fan for the heat,

the pump for the water,

thank goodness for emergency flashlights, lantern, candles, wood stove,

in the dark I get up and dressed 

and decide to go ahead with my morning meditation,

those 20+ minutes in which I seek to sync myself

with the underlying rightness of the universe,

as I lightly gaze out our large south windows,

darkness hides the ice which so burdens the pines,

I hear branches give up the ghost and crash down,

furtive beams of flashlight pierce out in my neighbor’s worlds,

as each reconnoiters before the upcoming sodden dreary grey dawn,

power never hints at coming back through the day

as inches of rain just keep falling

and the temperature hovers just above freezing,

all my plans for the day have a hint of possibility

until they crash like ice-heavy pine limbs,

the world is full of possibilities

and the odds do not always favor us.

by Henry H. Walker

March 7, ’14