January deep freeze. I’m in bed
lying with husband and two sleeping dogs
but it’s a three-dog night.
Siding creaks and pops like exploding ordinance
I imagine house timbers cracking and snapping in two
then collapse, falling onto the house
to bury sleeping dogs.
Morning. Snow crunches like lake ice cracking
and sound ricochets off our house,
steals into the woods.
Car door creaks its complaints
about being left outside as I turn the key,
Click.
Again. Click.
Memory of trip to Ireland–
The village’s cobbled square
ringed by shops, a pharmacy, a bank.
Venders’ carts display flowers and fruit.
An armored truck arrives. Click.
The soldier hears my camera,
whips around, rifle points at me.
His ear accurate.
In my car I rub away exceptional goosebumps
while I hug myself and scan the woods
then rush inside, crank the heat and fantasize
about daffodils in bloom alive after a spring blizzard,
or maybe just staying alive.
