Driving on the freeway
looking down the road
beyond the other cars,
gray dark clouds
are massing.
I have the feeling
I may drive right into them.
A stray snowflake
skittles past my window,
the air is cold, brittle.
Suddenly I am beguiled
by a world in white,
twisting,
coiling around my car.
Spurring it into the tunnel of whirling flakes,
surging forward
into this new perspective,
which seems unavoidable.