Squall by JKD

A variant and reversal of Lisa Pasold’s Snow Squall

the trick with being constant, like weather,
is to tromp downstreet watching some dog-owner instead

of being part of a Sunday carnival of bare limbs,
footprints on the frontwalk, to recognize

in frosted glass panes, a bevel of ice, standing
before the white window, the duvet pulled tight

while in the driveway (everytime, it’d bleed if it could)
the struck stone and bleeting snowplow backing up

hazel-eyed, the morning curling white
doubled-over like angels waking in snow