We who live in cold climates know well the fearsome wonder of a winter storm. The world simultaneously stops and swirls, narrows and expands. We are at once vulnerable and alone and yet part of a profound, communal experience. Whether we shovel, plow, or wait and watch, we are infused with awe for a force greater than our own.

Winter Psalm

by Richard Hoffman

Boston snowbound, Logan closed, snowplows

and salt-trucks flashing yellow, drifts

tall as a man some places, visibility poor,

I sit by the window and watch the snow

blow sideways north-northeast, hot cup

in hand, robe over pajamas.

You have made me to seek refuge

and charged me to care for my brothers.

How cruel. That could only be You out there

howling, cracking the trees, burying everything.

~~ from Emblem

Richard Hoffman has published four volumes of poetry, Without Paradise; Gold Star Road; Emblem; and Noon until Night. His other books include the memoirs Half the House and Love & Fury, and the story collection Interference and Other Stories.