I wrote this poem after our last snow storm, which I hoped would be our last snow storm this winter. But the forecast for March 20 is that we're in for more snow, so revisiting the experience of snow: 

Meditation: Eight inches, and the plow man didn’t show

so it is up to us

we work in shifts –

work and rest

work and refuel

work

and work again

shovel and lift

shovel and chip

throw the ice

throw the snow

tap to clear the shovel

repeat

repeat

repeat

snow that was heavy and wet last night

dry and light this morning

underneath the sloping white

hard frozen slicks hide from

bright March sunlight

every bit of ice like the piece before

every bit of ice possessed

of its own texture, shape, size

shovel, chip, throw, tap

again and again and again

in the end

down to the driveway’s blacktop

dark with the melt of snow and ice

mists lifting from pavement swirling

disappear into thin, crisp air

leaving behind on the asphalt

a smattering

of dry

                                                Kate Lydon Varley