Poem: Surfing in Snow

Surfing in Snow

A dusting of snow on the car.
A bit more falling in the morning gray.

It’s not supposed to snow, but
the weather in Vermont is erratic,

un predictable and strange,
a meteorologist’s nightmare.

Predictable madness has its own charm.
You learn to surf

whatever comes. What ever is.
Fears shrink, season by season,

each one you survived weakens worry,
strengthens delight, the ability to live

in the moment. So let it snow
until it doesn’t. You don’t care.

It’s all beautiful.

About this poem.

It is snowing outside right now. It’s not supposed to.

Life in a nutshell.

Tom

2 comments

  1. Having lived with the unpredictable nature of Upstate NY weather for so long this made me chuckle – so thank you for the much needed moment of levity. I now embrace it all as an element of “SURPRISE!” – sometimes more welcome than others. I am thoroughly embracing the imagery of surfing predictable madness. it’s a truly fitting metaphor for current events.

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