A VISITOR

Again snow covers New England.

There will be no school tomorrow

and we won’t go to work.

At night trucks drone

on the distant roads,

spraying sand and salt.

More snow brings more business

to the plowing workers —

it’s their season of harvest.

This morning I open my curtains

and find footprints scattered in my yard.

They were left behind by a deer,

who must have lingered here for a long time.

Again I think of you.

You often said you’d go to Florida

where there is a lot of sunlight

and no snow. Now you have gone

to another place where

there is no winter or storm,

though I’m not sure whether you are lonesome.