Carolyn Aune
Minnesota Branch

 

Ah, the late January malaise.
How about a rip-roaring blizzard
To break the monotony!
How about a blizzard so grand and fierce
That it would shake our world
As though the ruling Norse Gods of the clouds
Were beating their hairy chests, howling in rage,
And tearing to shreds their bright white tunics,
Hurling the bits to earth as a curtain of new snow.

And how about if, the next morning,
The dawning sky would flame hot pink,
With misty streaks of magenta and pumpkin orange,
As if the gods, now calm and spent,
Were coloring outside the lines.