Alert to the Sky


is grey this morning.

The pale sky is featureless,

a benevolent, gloved hand

blessing firmly my bent head.

Even the birds are quiet,

but I breathe in a thousand hopes,

the whispered snow-prayers

of schoolchildren.

Thick they ride the surface of the air,

fast and sure as sleds

remembered from storytime illustrations.

Every child a weatherman,

they scan radar, bet on percentages,

eye the thermometer warily.

This is the South

when January has bleached us out

and March is not even a green mist

on our horizon.

I am today’s grown-up,

considering black ice, empty grocery shelves

and downed power lines.

But beneath my responsible patina,

is a child with fingers crossed under mittens,

alert to the sky

to catch the first flake shaken

from our dreams.



Gratefully writing along 

with other good folks 

Write ALM January Prompts


6 thoughts on “surface

  1. the habit of being

    I spent yesterday fighting crowds at Whole Foods to buy supplies. School and office closures were announced at noon. People excited and now, finally, the icy rain has begun.

    Love your line about every child a weatherman- perfect.

  2. Angie

    So wonderful! Oh! These words brought to mind the book Snow Day, and my own wishes for Snow Days as both child, and worker in the school district! Nowadays we live in Colorado, and we homeschool, and Snow Days (like today) are stills so special, though the stakes have been lowered. Wishing you warmth, and hoping the power stays on, and hearts are happy.


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