The Blizzards of 2015

The storms crawled by with fearsome power,

snow blowing sideways hour after hour.

Shovel a shovel-wide path to the door.

Oops, snowed again! Shovel once more.

Dig out the driveway, the car—what a slog.

Dig a path to the hydrant, dig a path for the dog.

Heave the snow high up over your head.

Try to forget what the weatherman said:

Another one’s coming! Man oh man.

With a bull’s-eye painted right on Cape Ann.

There go the plows scraping and rumbling

all through the night—we shouldn’t be grumbling,

we’re snug in our beds, while the heroic

crew on the roads, exhausted but stoic,

battle the stuff coming out of the sky,

ton after ton, but they never say die.

Another one’s coming! Can we hope for

a break between blizzards to get to the store?

No train, no T, no parking, no walking

the kids stir-crazy, the grouch not talking.

Trapped in a snow globe! Let me out, let me out!

the snowsick, slap-happy denizens shout.

At least we broke the record snowfall,

though that doesn’t begin to make up for it all.

The leftover filthy snow piled up high

no doubt will be gone by the Fourth of July.

So step aside, Blizzard of ’78.

You’ve had your day, you really did rate,

but you weren’t as gargantuan and messy and mean

as the Blizzards of 2015.

~ Ruth Maassen

Ruth Maassen, Rockport’s poet laureate, arrived on Cape Ann in 1980. She does proofreading and book design for independent authors.