Aftermath - Dec 11 2022

 

Aftermath

Dec 11 2022

In the predawn darkness

the maintenance barn

rumbles to life.

Powerful engines growl,

diesel fouls the air,

and heavily bundled men

clamber up the sides

of the big yellow machines.

Then, before the first glimmer of light

a brigade of plows fans out

with military precision,

scouring the quiet streets

in a display of martial force

and exact choreography.

While the city sleeps,

unaware

of the meticulously planned manoeuvres

just outside their doors.

No one to hear

the bone china rattling

see the plow power by,

heaving up

great white windrows

and spewing black exhaust.

Fresh snow

trackless and unsoiled

blanketing the world,

glowing warmly

in the street lamps' yellow light.

So beautiful

in the silent night

if you happened to glance outside,

before the plows were marshalled

and their drivers staggered from bed.

When only the homeless and sleepless are out;

either walking to clear their heads

or searching for somewhere to rest them.

Where I walked alone,

slowly forging my way

through the fresh crystalline snow

that covered the sidewalk

in a nearly impassable layer;

the air still,

the cold dry,

and a few fat flakes

drifting lightly down.

The perfect surface

broken

by my single line of tracks.

And looking back

I could see how I'd struggled

through the deep virgin snow;

like a drunk

veering this way and that

staggering home from the bar.

But otherwise, it was beautiful,

the pristine snow

in the incandescent light

as the city slumbered on.

A moment

I wished could be frozen in time,

preserved

like fossil footprints

left in fresh mud.

A dinosaur,

either hunting smaller ones

or running for its life.

And me

in the aftermath of the storm

stumbling through mine.