Finally finished the third “snow” poem from my December drive. Enjoy.

December Snow
Time for another trip.
The studs are mounted and ready to go.
I noticed they weren't presenting themselves
With as much enthusiasm and confidence as I would like.
The sky was not overly threatening.
The roads were clear.
I didn't feel rushed to finish the loading
And there were a few stories still to be spilled.
I'd be gone for awhile and miss the Christmas season
With these folks.
I lingered.
The light snow that began to fall
Was easily ignored by pulling on another yarn.
Yes, I know, the car doors were still open.
At some point you couldn't be ignored.
Was that at the first inch or the second?
Everyone helped me throw your snow out
and the rest of my things in the car.
Time to go.
Well, actually, I should have gone with the earlier time.
There were two passes to pass
And too many miles to go too slow.
Luckily, the snow plows were doing their job.
So sorry, but you wasted a dump.
Over pass one and over pass two.
Not the fastest but not too slow.
But now what?
Light, fluffy snow that billows as I drive by.
And by billow, I mean you can't see a thing when behind a truck.
Who needs to see?
Stay in the left lane, zoom by
And you are in the clear.
And repeat.
And you develop a feeling.
Like I'm feeling the force of this billowing cloud
Pushing me to the left.
I can now hear/feel the rumble strip.
BTW, for anyone not awake, this would be a good time to open your eyes.
I am now presented with a decision.
Is that trucker really trying to put another notch in his belt?
Do I slam on my brakes, remembering the snow, ice and that I can't see?
Or do I accelerate, remembering the snow, ice and that I can't see?
Studs are not born, they are made.
I'm going to look you in the eye
Or at least in the direction I think the eye of your storm is,
And say bring it on, I'm motoring on.
I won.
But I bet we'll meet again.


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