A birch tree lies on my power lines,
and I am powerless.
No phone, no radio, no tv,
and all because of a snow-laden tree.
Why did this happen to me?
“It’s a day, man, a day.
It’s nothing but a day.”
“Imagine,” says my wife,
“being without power all your life.”
I clench my fist and pump the air.
Nobody sees me. There’s no one to care.
A ghost’s voice echoes in my head:
“Stop moaning, bro, at least you ain’t dead.”
Sun, wind, melting snow.
The lame tree rising, slow.
At last the wires are free.
Power is back again.
I breathe more easily.