Before the Blizzard

Can you smell it?
It’s the frostbite in the air,
a swirling wind that picks up from the north,
pinching your cheeks and nose.
Like powdered sugar and shaved aluminum –
a storm is coming.

The sky outside my frosted window,
clear and beautiful blue.
It’s a lie,
a shroud,
an absolute
f a ç a d e .
Tinges of silver on the edge of the horizon,
like a foil seal peeling
just enough to see
the storm preparing above.

As the day goes by,
cold whispers in your ear,
settles on your lips,
while the sky
f a  d   e    s
to grey.

Noses pressed to the windows,
or to the blue purple splay on our
computer screens…
watching and waiting to see…
but I look to the sky and wait
for the

Before the blizzard.