It’s the last clear morning before the storm —
of the century, they say, or at least the winter —
maybe 10 inches. I’ll believe it when I see it.
I like snow,
and anyway we broke down this fall
and got a snowblower.
It’s electric, and uses the same battery as the lawnmower,
but I still feel kind of guilty.
So anyway, this morning off the bus
I walked around some sort of traffic jam
at the parking garage.
I don’t know what everyone was doing there,
just that they were in the way, so I was redirected
down an alley with implacable sunlight and good echoes. I started to sing.
I don’t like listening to Leonard Coen’s Hallelujah at the open mic
But it’s one of the best singing songs.
I like to belt it along the street, and hear it bounce off buildings
And windows doors cars stoplights.
Sometimes that dark ebullience —
calm and storming, exulting in sadness, ‘holy and broken’ —
Is just what I need.
Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah.
Did you like this poem? Here are a couple more by me: