Frosted Pilgrimage

Dappled gray clouds loom pregnant with snow
as evergreen pipe cleaners brace close together
I gaze sweatered self-hugging thru glazed panes
bedazzled in a magic spell of warmth and chill

Cocooned in a frosted midwinter pilgrimage
I know I'm safe as I burrow hunkered down
All of my cares and worries now forgotten
along the twisty icy country road to Stowe

At first the wintry hush lulls me sleepy
making me long for downy Vermont napping
But then I am aroused, dare I say haunted
by Robert's frosted nose print upon the glass

Though I see no footprints I know he was there
peeking in impishly to cajole me out of dozing
Hoping instead to beckon me to look out poetic
exalting His fluffy snow blown masterpiece

Finally I relent as if there ever was a doubt
feeling the comfort of my laptop as it awakens
Stretching quietly to loosen stiff limbs I prepare
then breath in deep and hold the poet's present

Muffled blowing catches the window sill as if to recite
a whispered "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening"
Drifts of snow transform into a pallid desert unending
luring me deeper in search of lost childhood oases