They stand square-shouldered, thick coated,<\/p>\n
boot treads leaking dirty snow on the linoleum floor.<\/span><\/p>\n Storm after storm covers roads, driveways — more <\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n than I ever thought possible. One day<\/span><\/p>\n drifts into the next, white on white. Customers<\/span><\/p>\n jostle each other in line, arms thick with bacon, <\/span><\/p>\n milk, wine, all the last minute items needed<\/span><\/p>\n before we are caked in again. Back home,<\/span><\/p>\n my feet sink into the unpacked snow, entering<\/span><\/p>\n the house each frozen step beneath me groans.<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n The flakes are fat this time, wheels of frost <\/span><\/p>\n that twist past my window. They fall <\/span><\/p>\n unheeded on the stream, a bed of ice<\/span><\/p>\n except where the water falls over stones<\/span><\/p>\n from the old dam, breaking free in one cold<\/span><\/p>\n moment, a flash of blue against all the white.<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n title taken from the poem <\/span><\/i>High Water <\/i><\/b>by Jane Kenyon<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Published in:<\/p>\n Off the Coast, Summer 2015<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" They stand square-shouldered, thick coated, boot treads leaking dirty snow on the linoleum floor. Storm after storm covers roads, driveways — more than I ever thought possible. One day drifts into the next, white on white. Customers jostle each other in line, arms thick with bacon, milk, wine, all the last minute items needed … <\/p>\n