A Man’s Voice

Father and I had pulled the pump up

out of the well to put

new leathers in the cylinders.

I looked toward the house and saw

that our cats were spinning around

and around on the steps

as if they were drunk. Then the air

was suddenly full of snow,

weeds, dust and fodder, blowing

out of the northwest. We ran in

and pulled the door shut, snapping

the bottom hinge in the wind.

A wall of snow hit the house

and shook it hard, and it grew dark

as night. We had plenty of coal

to burn, as Father had bought a load

the week before. Through the night,

the house rocked like a cradle,

cracking much of the plaster loose.

In the morning we found

the wind had packed the snow so hard

our horses could walk on it

without breaking the crust.

The drifts were there till June.