Open

It has been snowing
and the roads are white with it,
the wind blowing drifts against
the silent houses.

The darkness is oppressive,
a thing that closes in,
that limits your vision
to a narrow strip of road

in front of your headlights.

It has been a long journey,
the storm growing worse with each mile,
a lifetime of white night,
until

you see it,
the light that beckons,
the place you come to,
warm with light

and open arms,
where doorways await you,
call you in seductively, wondering
what

took you so long.

About this poem

This one is simply a confluence of things – a long drive in the snow yesterday and last night to pick up my daughter from college, a picture I took a few nights ago of Sherman’s Store in Rupert, VT, and a cold winter’s day outside where I am grateful for having found love again. All somehow merging into a poem as I sit at my desk and listen to mournful jazz.

Tom