Working from Home During a Storm

Working from Home During a Storm

We listen to ice and snow pelt the cottage
all morning between conference calls.
When we look up from our blue screens
to peer out, I look east, you north.

Finally lunchtime and together we burst
into the kitchen, ravenous—
soup and bread and,
against good judgment, wine.

I take one sip and cannot stop and
soon we're outside—me wrapped
around you on a sled, Harley-style,
flying down a crystal slope.

Later we peel off clothes
nubbed with ice and step cool-limbed
to the hearth where you build
a towering fire.

And we revel there through the long
afternoon into evening—all shadows and skin,
breath and ice, teeth and coyotes
howling for love deep in the shimmering hills.