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Dormant

Three days trapped without power in sub-zero temperatures. Rows of toppled trees intermingled with ribbons of downed utility wires line frosty streets. Even the closed emergency rooms are prisoners of the storm. I lie bundled in my glacial bedroom inside a sleeping bag under a mountain of quilts. In the darkness I curse the ugliness of snow, the discomforts of winter, and dream of Hawaii and the warm places sane people live. Only crackers and ketchup left, batteries almost dead…

midnight
the clicking echoes
of tire chains
a house cat
snuggles closer

About the Author

John Budan



John Budan is a former merchant seaman and retired R.N. He lives with his wife on a wildlife habitat near Newberg, Oregon.


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