CENTURY

Beyond the meadow the young man traveled,    
Snow flurries began to rise, bowing trees.      
     
The sloughing sound, a choir of voices      
Forlorn from heavy-ladened skies adrift.    
     
The council of elder trees surrounding    
Would rain down offerings of white powder.    
     
He had no plans to turn back now that he    
Was on the path though he could see and feel    
     
How impossible his quest had become;  
Smiled, murmuring his thoughts only of her:    
     
If I hear your voice carried      
On the wind of a century storm,    
And I struggle through the night, my love      
In hopes of the sight of you.    
     
If I can't see, and all I feel is    
The frost that beats against my face    
Making diamonds of my tears,    
My heart will steer the course.
 
If I stumble to the ground    
Ill-clad, to be where I lay   
With the hope of an encounter
With the remotest chance.  
     
If I find myself yearning in the snow    
For a different time, a warmer day,      
A kinder god, to bring you where I am,    
Will you come, and will I know?    
     
Sleet whistled, and soon he disappeared      
Into dark stands of trees that edged where    
     
The white shower of their offerings      
Silently obliterated his footprints.    
     
     
     
Jade's note: The title comes from the term 'century storm' used in the poem. It means a weather event of such magnitude that people can't remember the last time because it happens only once in a hundred years.