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The previous post was the first of a series of poems titled The Three Best Days. The following is the second of the best days.

I want to live in a land
Where it's often the first day
of a three-day snowstorm.

The weather report warns:
a raging blizzard in the prairies
west of here.
Trucks are overturned, cars are buried
under snowdrifts six feet high.
Emergency vehicles only.
Women in labor are whisked to hospitals
by snowmobiles, just in time.
The storm is headed our way.
We flock to the stores:
bottled water, candles,
kerosene for oil lamps,
batteries for flashlights,
milk, bread, and meat,
soup in cans,
apples and candy,
pet food and litter.
Is there anything at home to read?
To the library, to the bookstore.
Pull into the garage
as the first flakes fall.

The strange and lovely silence begins.
Clouds of snow blow past my windows.
Safe from all distractions
I lose myself in elusive ecstasy:
solitude that seldom comes.
I read and dream and sip my tea,
rejoice in the cold and pristine white,
held close in the warmth of my home.

Written years ago by Marguerite Louise