Snow Day

what I feel to be snowed in

(ten inches in twenty hours)

is relief, I’m grateful

for everything I cannot do — 

drive out into the greater world

meet others, satisfy needs

all these are denied me

I’m inside, warm & dry

the cats asleep for another

day & night, nothing

to watch through iced-over

glass, squirrels & birds

hunkered wherever they hunker

when snow covers all

my red car is white

my white house nearly

disappears, the moon slings

long shadows of tall trees

morning’s rays will melt

what’s frozen, woo what hides

stiff limbed, blurry eyed

bundled up (snow pants

fat parka) I’ll shovel

(sate my urge to move about)

even without somewhere to go

someone to see beyond

these forms caged in crystal — 

time to set them free

My Groundhog

woodchuck, whistlepig, Marmota monax

I’ve seen no fresh rootling since fall

the burrow holes — one north, one east —

lie leaf covered, ringed by dry rubble

yet my groundhog can’t be still asleep

not in this too warm faux-spring

when black bears are out, gouging

black smears across muddy ground

hungry to nobble the feeblest scent

thoughts of my groundhog energize me

— warm brown bristles, snub nose —

likely I’ll find him when a cat on a sill

stiffens & stares — look, life, out there

I too might well, with warmth, emerge

A Wild Dog in My Chest

the twinge of discomfort in my ribcage

is medium sized, the latest new pain

I know some in my situation would call

a doc, & the doc would schedule machines

to tell me nothing or diagnose disease

so I don’t call, instead I ask my ribcage

why don’t we build a wildlife retreat?

collect fallen branches into large piles

where mice & moles, beetles & bees

can sleep & breed — my ribcage agrees

a warm March 4th, it’s 50 out, I pull on

cotton camouflage pants, a light fleece, 

work boots, work gloves, a blue cap

by the third branch the ribcage teaser

disappears, I’m young again, I believe