When I see you coming down the road,

tires spinning and spitting out snow;

the high cottonwoods hefting their thick arms to wave

and the neighbors twisting their necks to watch the silver dust fly,

I forget the distance between us;

the jackrabbit and his burrow and the cold, white field in-between;

the horse pacing the line of fence connecting

she and the kind blanket inside.

 

Then I picture you,

moving through the sable light

on a high plateau of mountain scree in the cold,

your resolute lips turning blue until you can get to me;

 

hoping you will always find me

and that I will always keep you warm…