The Blizzard

Mama was just saying, "I guess
the forecaster was wrong,"
when the storm struck.
It came from a clear blue sky.
The sun had shone on one
of those false spring days
that sometimes come in March
on the North Dakota prairies.

Spring was abolished instantly.
The Arctic wind picked up snow,
hurling it at anything in
its pathway, and though
we were safely home, we
were worried about those who
were shopping and had lingered
over coffee in the cafe.

We knew that my brother
and his wife and two small children
were among these stragglers.
There was no way we could check
on their safety.
The phones were out with
that first strong blast.

Daddy tied himself to a long rope
to get to the coal pile in the shed.
We were safe but worried about others.
It would be two days before
phones were restored,
roads cleared and news came
that my brother and family
were safe.

Others were not so fortunate.
Some died in their cars.
Those who left their cars,
perished anyway.

My last big storm.
I married and moved away
that summer.

By: Joyce 3/28/06