Coldest day

BRUCE GUNTHER

Brushing snow as fine as flour
from the top of the trash bin.
Feeling the single-digit air
in my eyebrows.
Following the neighbor’s lead,
I clear the driveway and sidewalk,
swipe a rectangular patch of snow
from the metal mailbox.
Ice, hard as concrete, fills the tracks
made by car tires in old snow.
A dog’s bark several blocks
away travels on the steady wind –
a wind with sharpened teeth.
The long road to spring unwinds
toward an invisible horizon,
yet, for now, it’s easy to become
comfortable in this quietness
while embarking on the slow
journey ahead.