going postal in deep freeze

 

clinging to mail with both hands

in the face of a whipping wind,

 

i trek down long gravel driveway

making heavy footprints in snow.

 

my body is wrapped in layers

with only squinting eyes exposed.

 

mitten tugs on stiff metal door;

it opens with protesting creak

to accept offering of bills paid.

 

i brush out powder blown in,

make a careful deposit, slam

door and set red flag upright.

 

mailbox swings from its chains;

wind stronger, colder at roadside.

 

snow-dusted cows watch

curiously as i trundle back to

farmhouse, leaving fresh tracks.

 

later today, i will dress again

to repeat the ritual, hoping for

a handwritten envelope hidden

between all the advertisements!