Approaching Storm

Approaching Storm by Edmund Siejka It was unexpected For what everyone thought Would be a mild April That no one saw it coming. The first signs Came over the horizon Thick grayish fingers Slowly inching towards us A warning of coming snow. Waiting at the train station Anxious to get home I could do nothing But watch the light flurries, Floating gently in the wind, Come down Faster and faster Heavier and heavier. In the station’s waiting room An old man sat down Bad leg stretched outward Cane by his good side. Unbuttoning his top coat He said to no one in particular ‘First hint of snow here And everything slows down.’ I nodded quietly. A woman waiting at the far end Had a worried look That only parents have As her daughter, Really only a child, Held her mother’s hand And recited her numbers From one to twenty In a voice as clear as an angel. The old man, tilting his head to one side, Listened Counting with the girl Tapping the cement floor with his cane. Outside the snow continued unabated Covering everything In a heavy white blanket So that even the tallest trees, Limbs outstretched, Knelt before nature’s might.