Snow Blind

Snow melts on the windshield,
wipers sliding it away
like memories slowly piling up
on the edge of consciousness.
The flakes blur in our passing,
even when we slow for the storm.

White vision distorts the flowing road,
indistinguishable from the subtle curb
that keeps us moving forward
in our journeys toward darkness.

So much snow to plow through,
and we are not yet half-way home.
Each elapsed mile we fight for control
while the wind sweeps drifts across
the near-useless headlights and
buries us deeper in the night.

We slog along and slide off course,
trapped by what has fallen in our way
by our inability to see behind or ahead.

Drew A. Foster