As the snow falls I brush it away
With a delicate broom so as not to use a shovel.
Every hour I go out to the long walk,
Conquer the new swirls and pile as if persistence
Were a virtue to keep up with nature.
If I did nothing I would be snowed in.
Some slumberous thinkers think this the best, January.
Let three feet fall, stay indoors, go to sleep,
Luxuriate in sleep like the groundhogs and gray squirrels.
There is something in me to test nature,
To disallow it the archaic predominance‚
And if the skies blanket us entirely
With a silence so soft as to be wholly winsome
(This beguilement of something beyond the human)‚
I have enough in me to give affront
And take my thin broom against the thick snowflakes
As a schoolmaster who would tell the children
What to do when they are getting sleepy and lazy.
I now make my predicament equal to nature’s.
I have the power, although it is timed and limited‚
To assert my order against the order of nature.
The snowplows begin to take away the snow‚
Flashing big lights in the middle of the night.
They, corporate, have the same idea that I have,
Individualist, not to let nature better us,
But to take this softness and this plenitude
As aesthetic, and control it as it falls.