As I drove along that treacherous bridge
The cringe worthy icicles pattered on my windshield
Oozing from the frozen foliage that crowded the overpass.
My car trudged slowly but confidently,
Tediously until it reached this bridge.
The meteorologists always advise against it,
But what is a modern man to do
When works piles up and absences are no excuse.
As I ruminate upon the exigencies of my existence,
Mother Nature steps in-with her gentle, but guiding hand,
Ever the more gregarious on this day.
It was as if she were telling me to stop, to stop
Living a life defined by this machinery-
Its destructive capability exceeds Nature’s benevolent intent.
So, this pensive daze overcomes me,
The flurries of glistening white snow glazing my windshield
Until I am blind, blind to the warnings of Nature.
Suddenly, the car jolts from left to right;
I am left paralyzed and shocked.
Quickly, I brace the wheel and rotate it
Towards the direction of my impending doom
With the frozen muddy waters bumbling underneath,
Puncturing holes in its surface to invite me.
I must act fast before I lose to Nature-
My best friend who would never chastise me
But might punish me with death.
Thus, I thought it necessary to
Thank her for her absolute awe-inspiring beauty,
And her absolute ability to destroy man.
If only I could return to those days
Of floating along the ice, making figure-eights
And observing my melted outlines in that
Frosty biome surrounded by mountains
And a pair of benches for the spectators.
No gas nor electricity needed,
Simply the steam provided by my skates
And my wood-carved stick
With tape wrapped around its edges.
It is slithering across the ice
That sets a young man free
Looking for the perfect puck to bury
In the back of the frozen net,
Inciting the few present townsfolk to ooh and ah.
No scoreboard, no air-horn here;
Simply the clock tower that is Mother Nature,
Her son the Son and her daughter the Moon
Refereeing over the games-
A witness to the sheer skill
Of her most youthful inhabitants,
Who know nothing of the ton-sized dangers
That await them. She never forgets to lead me
Back to that icy, amicable pond,
Where legends were made and memories created,
I am always more composed
With those Eastons floating under me
Than with those faulty pedals and tires
Sliding away from my innocent feet,
Directing me into the disciplinarian
That rests in Mother Nature.