Blue Morning Drive

This poem was written on written on January 2, 2018

I open the garage door and start the car to warm it
Back out into the squeaking snow,
the headlights reveal flakes as big as cereal and
Six inches of powder, new to this place in the world
The air becomes increasingly blue as nautical dawn emerges, no other light but my little ship sailing down the road
The firs are magnificent in their heavy green and white robes; their
deciduous cousins groan as they wave their naked arms and complain about the cold
At the corner where our dirt road meets the county road, no other cars,
I make the turn slowly and venture further into blue
The second house on the right still displays a Christmas tree
I see the lights through the picture window,
Those big multi-color lights, impossibly cheerful on this frigid, forlorn morning
At the intersection where the county and state roads meet,
movement and life
A clumsy county snow plow, blinking and nodding, moves forward in a cloud of snow mist,
A semi follows, snow streaming off its roof
I turn and join the regatta,
sailing slowly through the blue

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