A Small Matter

The farmer knows he’s no match
for storms. We drove the steers
out of the pasture into the yard,
shut cows and calves in the big barn,
locked the hoghouse doors and windows,
let the horses into their stalls.
The horses were waiting, they have
their own storm warnings, the radio
is ours. We drained the radiators
of truck and tractors, wedged shut
the machine shed doors. I piled wood 
for the fireplace in the hall and
cautioned my wife to let her errands
wait. And then it came, a bellyful
of wind blasting out of the Arctic,
pellets of snow driven in lines
to rattle on roof and windows.
I watched the temperature fall
then sat by the fire and thought,
it’s something to have done the best
you can and not feel guilty in the
comfort of your own shelter.