Stranded in a snowstorm

I stood at the window watching it snow
inch by inch white flakes covered the dirt road
bordering my grandparent’s front yard.

Gray snow clouds hid the setting sun
and concealed the rising moon,
but the snow that lay on the ground that night
was white as the wool yarn in my grandmother’s sewing box.

I opened the sewing box,
I took out the yarn
and held it up to the light.
I compared the yarn’s whiteness
against the purity of the snow.

This was the second snow of the year,
tomorrow we would eat snow ice cream,
while we waited for the snowplows to clear the road
the way they had three days ago.

Returning the yarn to its warm home,
I turned off the lights and went to bed
knowing
that on Sunday morning
Grandma would be the first one awake
and have our breakfast already to eat,
so that we could go to church.

When morning came,
I smelled bacon and eggs,
got up and looked out the window.
The snow was still coming down,
it covered the road, the ditch and the yard;
it was almost to the window seal,
and I knew the snowplows would not come that day,
we were stranded
until one of the city’s
two snowplows came
and cleared away the snow.

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Form:Free Verse