After the Snowstorm
Is it a Chevy or a bear
beneath that hulking heap of snow,
hibernating in its lair?
If it’s alive, its breaths are slow
as ice floes on Europa’s seas.
It shall keep dozing; I’ll not go
and dig it out today when trees
all tremble in their talcum dress.
Light paws and hiking boots now breeze
around the neighborhood. O bless
the snowplows! Sidewalks everywhere
are unobstructed (more or less).
I muse while breathing bracing air:
why bug a sleeping Chevy-bear?