First Big Blizzard

Crossing the frozen baseball diamond
Against the blowing snow, our eyes
Were drawn down
Out of the white that vanishes context,
Massacres colour and shape in an ever-changing blur,
And into the revealing white
Of pure, bright reflection.
It was strange to be so blind, lost.
We felt a little frightened,
I think,
And pictured ourselves on rubber yoga mats
Or home in bed,
Lying awake with closed eyes,
Dreaming ourselves here,
Showing up at your Christmas party
Already half drunk.

- Andrew